Such Fruits as These
by Grendelsmother
Summary: Rosalie Hale was a beautiful young woman on the verge of marriage when her life was taken from her in an act of horrific violence. Rescued by the Cullens, can she come to terms with the end of her human life? Can she save other women from the same fate?
1. Chapter 1

I am Rosalie Hale. I am beautiful. I am deadly.

In my human life, I was also beautiful. I was all golden waves and soft ivory curves, blue eyes the color of a late summer sky. My cheeks blushed demure rose when Royce King looked at me that first day in his father's bank. Everything about me was soft, yielding. Accepting.

The things that I wanted were usual things: a marriage, money, a baby. Nothing out of the ordinary. I just wanted a Mary Cassatt painting of my own life…warm colors and a sweet-smelling infant in my arms.

My mother's aims were even simpler. She simply wanted me married and married well. She didn't care really how it looked behind closed doors. She just wanted the picture to be right to all who looked in, my life made into a diorama, contained and pretty for all who wanted to gaze upon it. And Royce King was the key to all of that. He was the richest young man in town and would remain so. He was a King, after all. President Roosevelt himself had dined with the Kings when he'd visited the year before.

Perhaps I am harsh, bitter by the knowledge that my mother, in essence, acted as my madam. I know she didn't think of it in those terms, but she saw my beauty as a commodity, available for trading in for status, a marriage to a King. Endless Christmases at the King family mansion, summers at their seaside cottage, grandchildren bearing the most powerful name in town.

No one would ever call her middle-class again.

And the price for this was my innocence. I would have to trade in everything I'd known of the world for a new picture based upon my uses. Before was potential, a time when I was thought of in terms of what I might do. I might marry, I might teach, I might…what? At the time, my options were limited, but I didn't really know that. I knew what I wanted, or thought I wanted. But innocence demands possibility. The loss of that innocence is committing yourself to the use of someone else, in my case to marital duties of one type or another until the very end of my life.

But I'd read enough fairy tales to know a prince when I saw one. And mine was perfect, handsome, rich, attentive. He was even the son of a King, a fact I would tease him about in some of my more cloying moments. I was certain that this was my path, the thing that meant most to me, and the thing that would mark my life forever as one of accomplishment.

Until I met Henry. He was Vera's, and he was the first thing I'd ever seen that wasn't mine and couldn't become mine. Vera's little Henry: plump cheeks and black curls, and the sweetest little dimples that showed when he smiled at his mother. He wouldn't smile at me. He couldn't care about me, really, not when she was in the room. I couldn't hold a candle to his mother. Vera was my friend, and had been since we were girls. But no one had ever looked at her when I was standing next to her. I can't really describe how that feels, but what I was left with after that encounter with that perfect child was longing. A child would always look at me with that love in his eyes. There would never be the threat of losing that love.

And for all my self-centeredness and vanity, I knew that one day, people wouldn't look at me in the same way. I was naïve and stupid and empty, but even I knew that. No one is beautiful forever.

Well, except me.

But of course, I'm skipping ahead. Forgive me.

Royce had made quite clear his feelings for me, his intentions of marrying me and bringing to fruition all of my mother's desires and wishes and all that I thought I wanted and needed. There was no surface of my room uncovered by flowers, letters, trinkets, and keepsakes. He knew exactly what he wanted. If only I were as clear-headed.

As weeks passed, filled to the brim with walks, dances, Sunday drives, and evenings spent on my mother's porch swing, I mirrored Royce's smug certainty right back to him. One balmy summer night, as we sat in the porch swing and talked, Royce got down on one knee and proposed to me. In one hand was the biggest diamond I'd ever seen.

In that one moment, all of my mother's desires were fulfilled. We threw ourselves into the wedding planning with single-minded purpose. Looking back on it, I realize that she was far more excited about the ceremony than I. I cared, certainly, and welcomed the idea of a church full of people straining for the first look at me. I knew just how the stained glass windows of the church would cast rainbows on my golden hair, how everyone would turn to see me as I made my way up the aisle, how the sighs would echo in the sanctuary as I placed my hand in Royce's. But when I really thought about the things that made me happiest, I thought of Henry looking at Vera, and I knew exactly what I wanted out of a marriage to Royce. I thought of our golden children playing on the vast lawn in front of the King estate. I thought of taking them with us for Sunday drives in the backseat of a very expensive new car. Royce actually figured very little in my daydreams. He was a means to an end. After all, he was a man, and men had always shown interest. If not him, it would be another. I loved him well enough, I suppose, but I thought only of those golden children whenever I thought of life after my marriage.

I never thought about the things that you must do in order to bring about those golden children. Times being what they were, I didn't talk to my mother about that either. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew that Royce, being my prince, would be gentle and loving. He had always been so polite and well-mannered during our courtship. How would it be anything else?

The wedding planning was marching along nicely. It was simply a week away. That night I'd visited Vera and Henry. I'd watched her with her husband when they thought I couldn't see. I still remember, even through the haze of human sight, the feeling I had when he gently kissed her on the cheek. It was like I was watching something intimate, private. Royce never touched me that way. He barely touched me at all unless someone was watching. I couldn't imagine him being that tender. A fresh surge of jealousy coursed through me, followed by frustration. How did plain Vera end up having everything that I wanted? I was Rosalie Hale, fiancée to Royce King. I was beautiful, and soon, I would be rich and powerful, too. I remember making excuses for Royce in my head. That his unwillingness to touch me unless others were watching simply meant he was a gentleman. He didn't want to put my reputation at risk.

But that kiss, that simple kiss on the cheek didn't leave my mind. That was what I was thinking of as I walked home. The jealousy was consuming and burned through my system with surprising intensity. Why was I so jealous of Vera and her husband? They were poor. Construction work had dried up, and Vera's husband was thinking of joining the Civilian Conservation Corp just to make ends meet. What was to be jealous of? But the look in his eyes as he looked at his wife played again and again in my brain. When Royce looked at me, it was a look only of pride and possession. Like you'd look at a prized horse or a new car. His eyes never softened that way, they never saw anything other than my beauty. I wasn't even sure if we'd ever talked about anything other than the next party that we'd attend or how jealous people seemed of us or what clothes we wore. Nothing that, suddenly, seemed to matter. I didn't know how he felt about children, about religion, art, music, education. I didn't know what books he read or even if he read. I didn't know anything about his childhood, about how he felt about his mother, no funny little anecdotes about his years in school. Nothing.

I saw my life stretch before me suddenly, as empty as the street I was on. No matter how dim my human memories become, no matter how much the events that followed overshadowed everything else, I have always remembered that feeling of emptiness. I can't remember what color my house was painted or my doll's name or if we had any pets. But I remember that horrible hollow feeling as I walked down that empty street.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it of those thoughts. I was Rosalie Hale, and I deserved the happy life I was about to be handed in Brighton Presbyterian Church on the 1st of May. A spring wedding. Spring. Rebirth, blossoming, the beauty before the ripening. A time when winter and death and decay seemed so far away. How appropriate a time for a wedding. I tried to run through the guest list in my head to chase away the jealous thoughts. It wasn't really working. Vera would be there. I hadn't asked her to be a bridesmaid because my mother wouldn't let me. I was instead asking some of Royce's cousins and some girls who were the children of my father's co-workers at the bank, people my mother deemed as "suitable." I began to wonder what it would look like when Royce kissed me in the church. I couldn't picture it.

I was surprised when I heard them. That was my first reaction. It was after dark, but it was Rochester. Other than a stiff breeze coming off the water, there was little to prevent a young girl from walking home alone. But these men were so loud. I'd never been around men who drank before, and I didn't really make the connection, but they seemed…happy. I was so innocent that I never realized the true danger. I was just a little nervous. I didn't want to be late getting home. My mother and I were going to go over the seating chart for the reception. We had so much to do.

So when someone in the loud group called my name, I was initially annoyed. Then I realized that it was Royce. I smelled the cloud of alcohol that surrounded them, so I finally realized what was happening.

They were all drunk.

I focused on making my face presentable. I was afraid that Royce would realize that I'd been…what? Thinking? No, doubting.

But of course, he didn't. He knew so little about me that he wouldn't have been able to tell.

He was with a group of friends who had come into town ostensibly to celebrate the wedding. It was still a week off, so I had been very confused as to why they were here so early. I wasn't used to the way people who never had to work did things. These were all princes, just like my own Royce. They'd never had to work for anything. They were just waiting to come into their own. They might make some show of participating in whatever family business was theirs, but they were really just waiting in the wings for the king to die, so they could inherit the throne. Just like my Royce. So what was a week to celebrate the marriage of one of their own?

It just never occurred to me how they would celebrate.

"Rose! Here's my Rose!" Royce shouted as the men around him laughed.

Why are they laughing? I thought.

"You're late. We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long."

"But…I was at Vera's. Why…why would you be waiting?" I felt a small tremble of fear. I'd told Royce that I was visiting her. I knew I had. We had no plans. I was confused.

There was a man with them that I'd never met before. John, the others called him. I found out later, after I'd died, that he'd come from Atlanta. He was dark, dark hair, dark skin. His eyes were in shadow.

"What did I tell you, John," Royce bragged, pulling me closer, more into the light, "Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?"

The man looked me up and down, appraising, his eyes still shadowed by the brim of his hat. "It's hard to tell. She's all covered up." His words clearly threatened, but the voice was unexpected. It was clear, musical, like the deep call of church bells. I think I actually took a step toward him before I froze. I saw the smile creep across his face, slowly. His teeth were brilliant white against his dark skin.

Suddenly, Royce grabbed me and ripped off my jacket. I screamed once, and the others ripped the hat from my head. I screamed again, and someone struck me hard across the face. I gasped, unable even to scream for a moment. The shock was unspeakable. No one had ever hit me before.

"Show him what you look like, Rose!" He reached out to rip my blouse, and my screaming began again. But there was no one to hear. The Depression had taken its toll on Main Street, and the storefronts around us were empty. They pulled me into the doorway of one of the empty storefronts. I remember, oddly enough, a dressmaker's manikin, headless, still occupying the window. There were two boards nailed up to the doors. The man named John reached out and wrenched one off. It seemed so effortless, and it reminded me that I had no hope.

I didn't even know what they were planning to do to me. They just kept hitting me, again and again. I screamed and screamed. As the first of the men climbed on top of me, I just left my body altogether. I watched as if I were the manikin, safe behind the glass. I can't really remember all of the details. My brain was scrambling to make sense of the pain of so much innocence ripped away, the cold of the tile on my naked back, the horrible things that the men were doing to me. I didn't even really know what they were doing to me. I had been so innocent.

The parts that I do remember I've had to struggle to keep. I remember John swinging the board down and the feeling as it struck my head. I remember his weight on me, so much more than the rest of the men. His hands tore, broke, and bruised where they touched. He grabbed my wrist, and the bones there shattered. His legs crushed mine. You could hear the bones breaking, and I tried to call out to Royce to stop this, but he was laughing, drinking something more out of a bottle wrapped in paper. He paid no attention as his friend's body split mine into splinters. I felt my pelvis break, and my ribs. My last scream was silenced when he clamped a hand over my mouth and my teeth shattered. I looked up at him and the light from a streetlamp caught his bare shoulder.

It glittered.

I've been over this detail again and again. I thought, once I woke from my death, that maybe I was mistaken. All the other memories were so vague, red and blurry from the blood in my eyes. But I remember that glimmer of topaz. My family now is diamond. This stranger was browner, but the sparkle was the same.

And his eyes. I hadn't been able to see them before. They were a deep red, and when I coughed blood onto his face, they darkened so much that they became black. He reached up a hand and wiped my blood away. He licked his fingers, slowly. There was a rumbling in his chest, and before his body left mine, he lowered his face to my breast and bit into my flesh.

I couldn't even scream anymore. I heard a noise from behind, a sound like a flock of birds or a group of men running or a rush of wind. I couldn't place it, but John lifted his head from my chest with a snarl and was gone. Royce and his other friends ran, calling out for John as if they weren't sure where he was. His friends were joking that he would have to find another bride. He said he'd have to have more patience first.

And then someone else approached. His chest rumbled with a growl as he took in the damage before him. It was Dr. Cullen. I thought it was another man there to hurt me more. There was blood everywhere, my hair was wet with it, my eyes nearly swollen shut. My vision was reduced to one tiny pinhole. I tried to speak. I was horrified at my nakedness, and Dr. Cullen seemed to understand that. He swept his long coat off and covered me.

There was something wrong with his coat. It burned. It made the bite on my chest catch fire, hotter and hotter. And the screaming started again. I coughed out more blood and probably some of my teeth, and then I was flying. I kept waiting for something. There had to be an end to the pain, some reward or punishment, something had to come to end it.

But we flew on.

Eventually there was light and warmth. But I looked around through the small slit that was left of my eyesight, and it looked like a house. I remember the smell of flowers and leather and woodsmoke. And something else. A smell a little like John's breath, but sweeter, like vanilla and night-blooming jasmine. John's breath was more like ether.

I thought that this wouldn't be a bad place to die.

The burning continued, and then I felt sharpness again through broken wrists and ankles, in my bruised neck.

"He'd already bitten her," a sharp voice said from behind the doctor.

"I didn't have time to examine her first. She's dying quickly. More venom might help us get ahead of the injuries."

I screamed as the burning intensified, coming now from my ravaged breast, my neck, my arms and legs. The new burning was different…a white flame instead of a red one. Like the outmost extreme of cold, hardening my flesh into ice instead of charcoal. I couldn't understand how the pain could get worse, but it did, I could feel my bones move inside my legs, the broken and shattered edges moving against one another, a faint horror behind the burning that grew and grew and grew.

My mind registered that someone had taken my hand. "Rosalie, I'm so sorry. It was the only way. You'd lost so much blood. The pain will end, I promise. Rosalie?"

I only screamed some more. "I'm sorry." The voice sounded gentle and pained.

Why would no one kill me? Why were they all making me suffer? Why wouldn't they let me die?

"What were you thinking, Carlisle? Rosalie Hale?" It was Edward, I eventually remembered. Some portion of my brain continued to operate above my body, just as it had as it watched from the store window.

Why did he hate me? No man had ever reacted to me that way before. It was like he could know all of the horrible things I'd thought about Vera. Like he saw past the golden hair and blue eyes and soft lips. Like he saw the nothingness.

"I couldn't let her die. It was too much—too horrible, too much waste," Carlisle said.

"I know," Edward said. It seemed like he was talking about more than my death. Like maybe he was talking about me. It added more pain on top of what I was enduring, anger and hurt to compete with the red fire from above and the white fire from below. He knew nothing, I remember the alert part of my brain thinking, nothing of what I suffered on the street. If I could have struck him, I would have.

"It was too mush waste. I couldn't leave her," Carlisle repeated softly.

A woman's voice answered. Mrs. Cullen. Esme. "Of course you couldn't." There was a softness in her voice that reminded me of Vera.

"People die all the time. Don't you think she's just a little recognizable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search – not that anyone suspects the fiend," Edward spat. He growled deep in his chest. At least he knew what my bastard fiancée had done to me. That made me happier and eased the pressure of the anger in my chest.

For two days, I stayed locked in the battle between the fires, waiting for one or the other to consume me, but it wouldn't. Gradually, the pain of my injuries lessened. The breaks in my legs healed, I felt the teeth in my mouth regrow and smooth, I felt the tightness of my face diminish as the swelling there went down. But still the fires raged.

Someone was always holding my hand. Sometimes it was Carlisle, sometimes Esme, never Edward. They tried to soothe me when I screamed and whimpered. Once Esme even read some poetry to me. I could hear strains of piano music coming from the other room. It was often angry, ominous music, sometimes merely sad. Esme sighed often when the music was playing, especially when the music turned sad.

Esme took the time to wipe the dried blood from my face with a warm, damp cloth. It smelled of roses. The smell turned my stomach. It smelled like the roses that Royce had sent me each day. But I said nothing. My teeth were clenched together. I knew I'd scream more if I opened my mouth. And screaming did nothing.

On a few occasions on the second day, I heard whispers. "Who was he?" Edward asked. "Did you see him?"

"I didn't see him. I smelled him. His scent was all over her. It wasn't anyone I've ever known."

"Is it someone new, then? Surely the Volturi would have taken notice of an…"

The conversation became too soft for me to hear. It didn't make sense to me anyway. Not at the time.

Hours passed. I began to be able to focus on the ticking of the clock. I counted away the minutes. It helped me keep my sanity. Slowly, the pain began to lessen. The fires still raged, but I began to notice that my fingers no longer burned. And the pains in my ankles were gone.

Esme spoke again. "Shouldn't we begin to explain? She's clearly going to wake soon. See how the bruises have faded? And her teeth…"

"Do you want to, or should I?" Carlisle asked softly.

"I think you should. You're her father now," Esme replied. I couldn't understand what she meant. I had a father. Somewhere, he was looking for me. I knew he would be.

"Rosalie? I know the venom burns, but I think you can hear me now. I'm so sorry for the pain you are suffering now, but it was the only way. You would have died. You may have turned anyway. The dark one bit you." These words didn't help at all.

"Rosalie, we are vampires. The burning that you're feeling now is the spread of the venom. It's healing you, but it's also turning you into one of us."

Edward snorted somewhere near the door. "She can hear you. You seem to be frustrating her. She's wishing she could slap you for talking to her like she's an idiot."

How did he know that?

"I'm sorry, Rosalie. This is just very difficult to explain. But things that you probably didn't believe in during your life are true. There are things in this world that most humans never have to see. You've found that out in the hardest way possible. I'm so sorry for that, sorrier than you will ever know. But this life can be good. You do not have to grow old. You will never die. Your eyes will open to a world more beautiful than you can imagine."

"You'll even be more beautiful. I know that's important to you," Edward added from the doorway. He snorted again.

"Edward!" Esme chastised.

"We are a family in a very real sense. We love one another and are able to control our impulses. We consume animal blood rather than human, and the practice seems to make us more like the humans we once were. When you wake, however, you will want human blood, need it. Your body will crave it to the point of physical pain. To live like we do requires discipline and practice. It is not easy, but it has many benefits. My hope is that you will remain with us, a beloved daughter to Esme and myself. We will help you through the early days. These days are difficult, but we will be there for you in every way that we can."

And what about Edward? I thought.

I heard an angry slap against the door, and Edward's footsteps walking away. Carlisle sighed. Esme said, "I'll go after him." She left the room.

Carlisle's voice lowered to a whisper. "I'm sorry about my son." Son? I'd thought Edward was Esme's brother. "He's been alone for a long time, and he resents our interference. I can't deny that I'd hoped that you would perhaps grow to be a companion for him, but if not, a sister. He's empty. I worry about him."

Empty? I thought. It was a familiar word, but at that moment, the fires reached my chest, threatening to strangle my heart. It sped violently, trying to stay one beat ahead of the relentless burning. Both fires licked toward the very center of my heart, and I began screaming again, until I felt the final breath leave my body, and the final thud of my frenzied heart.

Quick footsteps entered the room, and I heard Dr. Cullen step away from me.

My eyes opened, and I saw the world for the first time.


	2. Chapter 2

I blinked. I was trying to focus my eyes as humans do when they first wake. But they were focused. On everything. I could see the dust floating in the air as clearly as each strand on Edward's head as he stood across the room. All at once. My brain was processing it, but my expectations of what vision should be had to catch up with what was happening. Each point of light, whether the lamplight on the desk, the starlight coming in the widows, the soft shine of Esme's lips, all divided into each color, as if I were staring through a hundred prisms at once. But the rainbows did not interfere with the clarity of my sight. I could see it all.

And the smells. I smelled the soft blanket I had changed on…wool, a faint animal scent coming through lavender and cedar, the leather of the couch beneath, the sweat of my human self, a faint smell of rust, flowers, and cookies from my hair, new carpet, the musty smell of dust, and from the doorway, three distinct, indescribable scents that set me on edge.

I meant only to stand up, but the simple movement launched me off the couch and back toward the window. I saw ceiling and floor briefly exchange places – I had apparently performed a flip – and landed near the window in a crouch. A rumbling in my chest erupted from my mouth, a wild desperate growl. I wanted the three to leave me. They threatened me in a way I didn't understand, as if they were going to take from me something that I needed.

I felt as if they were going to kill me, and I'd fight to the death before anyone hurt me ever again.

Carlisle stood in front, arms outstretched, palms up. "No one here is going to hurt you, Rosalie. You're all right."

Edward's lip lifted in a snarl. Both men stood protectively in front of Esme, who peeked over their shoulders, looking worried, but also sympathetic. No one spoke. We might have stood there for an hour like that. Maybe we did. No one had the need to move, and I was surprised to find I could hold that crouch for hours.

But the flames in my throat grew and grew, so the constant growling from my throat continued.

"Rosalie? You're thirsty. You need to hunt, but at least one of us must go with you. Do you understand?" Carlisle took a step forward, and Esme gasped, reaching for the back of his shirt and missing.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Carlisle took another step forward, followed closely by Edward. My eyes darted to Edward's face, and the growling intensified.

"I think you should step back, Edward," Esme said. She pulled his arm until he stood behind her. I felt myself relax a little.

I opened my mouth. I think I expected my voice to be dry and brittle because of the thirst, because of the two days of screaming, because of the terror that had come before. But when I spoke it was clear, not as delicate as Esme's voice, richer and clear, like the tones of a marimba.

"Esme." I hadn't said her name before. She nodded and pulled Carlisle's arm back as she had Edward's, so that she was standing in front.

"No!" Edward and Carlisle seemed to speak at once.

"Do you blame her?" Esme asked. "I think, given what she's been through for the past couple of days, wanting to stay as far away from men is only natural. I can handle her. If you feel the need, you may follow us, but only at a distance. Edward, you know you'll be able to hear everything, and you can reach us quickly should anything happen. Let us girls have some girl time."

Neither Edward nor Carlisle looked happy, but they kept their distance. I straightened up, and the growling slowly faded as Esme approached. I didn't feel a threat from her. It was…not comfortable, but tolerable.

"Rosalie? We need to hunt. Edward and Carlisle may watch from a distance, but they're not going to approach unless you want them to, okay? We're going to go into the woods." She reached out her hand toward me, and I slowly reached forward to take it. Her hand seemed warmer than I remembered it through the fire.

"Okay." My voice was still strange to me.

Edward and Carlisle shrank back from the doorway. When we reached it, they were nowhere to be seen. But I could still smell them, and their scent made a prickle run up the back of my neck and force a snarl out of my mouth.

"Boys," Esme said quietly, "I think you should back off a little more. You're making Rosalie uncomfortable."

Slowly, the scent receded until it was faint. The unpleasant prickling went away. We left the house through the back door. I found myself outdoors for the first time. When I looked at Esme, I was stunned. She sparkled all over, brighter than the foul diamond that still held its place on my left hand. Esme laughed lightly and said, "I know. Look at your arms. If anything, you are more brilliant than I."

I looked down at my bare arms. They sparkled and caught the light. I looked down at my legs. I was dressed in clothes that were not my own.

"When Carlisle brought you home, you had very little on. I found some things that I thought you might like. I dressed you myself while you were changing. I hope you like it."

The dress was a deep blue silk, with a long flared skirt and a wrapped bodice with a peplum that cascaded over my slim hips. The sleeves were three-quarter length, with a ruffled edging. It was more beautiful than anything I had in my human closet. "It's so pretty."

Esme smiled. "I'm glad you're pleased. I washed you up a little, but there's still a little blood in your hair. We can take care of that after we hunt. You'll probably get messy. The first time is always rather inelegant."

I looked at her apprehensively. I didn't want to ruin the beautiful dress.

"Don't worry about your clothing. I bought another identical to this one, just in case you liked it. I think we all ruined our clothes the first time we hunted. It takes practice to do it neatly, and if your preference is for predators, then you have to learn to dodge the claws."

"Wouldn't that hurt?" It was difficult to talk at all with the dry burning in my throat, but my voice sounded its marimba tone with no sound of dryness.

"Very little can hurt us. Our skin is nearly impenetrable. Here, clap your hand together with mine." She held hers out, and I brought my hand down on hers. The sound was like marbles hitting one another in the playground, if the marbles were two feet in diameter. Loud.

I smiled. I liked that feeling, the idea that nothing would ever break me again.

"You must be getting very uncomfortable. Let's be on our way. You will find that running is the fastest way to get most places. Shall we?" She smiled at me again, and I felt a faint tugging around my lips, as if I were going to smile too.

Suddenly, she was gone. I could hear a rustling in the trees far ahead. "Come, Rosalie," her voice sang out from the trees. "Just run."

I hadn't run since I was a little girl, but I crouched down and sprang into a run. It was effortless. I couldn't feel any strain of muscle, but the trees dissolved into a green streak, with each leaf still visible. I had never felt speed like that in my life, not even when my father brought home the Studebaker, and took me out for a drive. It had been terrifying, bumping along, feeling out of control. Nothing like this. I could have caught the Studebaker easily.

I came up alongside Esme very quickly. She turned her head slightly to smile at me. We ran for a while, until we came to a river flowing through the woods.

"This is usually a good place for deer. They're not the tastiest, but they'll be easy to catch. We're so much faster, you see."

We waited for a moment, and then I heard rustling from downstream. A smell drifted over to me. It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't smell like food either. More like moss or rotting leaves. A smell of autumn, perhaps, without apples or spice.

"There's one now. I know it doesn't smell appetizing yet, but it will after a while. It grows on you, and if you're able to resist human blood while you're young, you won't ever really know the difference. Do you see it?" She gestured to the left.

The deer was drinking from the stream, perhaps a half mile away. I could see it as clearly as if it were next to me. "Yes," I replied. Liquid like saliva filled my mouth.

"The next part is simple. You simply spring and lock your arms around it. The blood flows better if you get it at the neck, but being so precise will take practice. The abdomen works as well as anything else. Would you like to watch me or just try this one?"

I was so thirsty. "I'll do it." I dropped into a crouch and jumped. I thought it would just give me a head start on the running, so I was more than a little surprised when one leap left me face to face with the deer.

"Now grab him. You can do it." Esme's voice carried, but she wasn't shouting.

I reached out quickly and grabbed it just as it was coiling to spring away. It struggled in my grasp, and I heard the fabric of my dress rip. I panicked for a moment, but heard Esme say, "Don't worry about the clothes, it can't hurt you. Now bite into the neck. You should be able to reach it."

I did as she asked, fighting back the panic that was climbing my throat and competing with the thirst. I sank my teeth into the creature's neck. It was like biting into soft butter. The blood began to flow, and I swallowed it eagerly. The taste was strange. I can remember being given an old teapot when I was a child that I played with in my sandbox. Vera and I would make tea from dead leaves and rainwater. We'd fill it with torn leaves and leave the lid off to collect rainwater. When you poured it into a cup, it looked just like tea. On a dare, I drank some once. It was a bitter earthy taste, and that's what this tasted like. But thicker, like boiled custard.

But I swallowed again and again, because it was slowly lessening the fire in my throat. The struggling stopped, and the deer went limp in my grasp. I drank until nothing else would come, then I dropped it and stood.

I surveyed the damage to my dress. It wasn't much, just a rip in the bodice.

"Excellent, Rosalie. You didn't spill a single drop! I know I didn't do that well my first time. How do you feel?"

"Not bad. I might like another, though."

"You do tend to have a little more on your first time out. Later, that one will be all you really need for a couple of days, but for the first few weeks, we'll probably take you out once or twice a day so that you can keep satiated. It will be easier for you that way."

"Will you take me?" I asked her. I didn't want to go with Edward. I didn't really even want to go with Carlisle.

"If you want me, I'll be there. I promise," Esme said very seriously. She reached out and touched my cheek softly. I was touched by the gesture. My mother had stopped touching me that way years ago.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're entirely welcome. Now, let's see what else we can find. Would you like to try something else?" I nodded, feeling suddenly shy around Esme. She was the kindest person I'd ever met.

"Let's run upstream a bit. We'll have scared all the wildlife away from the area with the noise and smell. We'll run into the forest for cover and then parallel the water. Ready?"

This time when she took off I was ready. I ran alongside her until she said, "This is probably far enough. Let's stop and listen a while." She crouched down low to the ground and listened for a while. Then we both heard a yelp from the distance.

"Excellent," Esme hissed softly. "Coyote. I was going to wait for predators for a while, but coyotes are small, and you did so well with the deer. Now, can you point out where he is? Use all your senses."

I could feel a faint heat coming from the woods ahead of me where the yelp had sounded. "Heat?" I asked Esme, unsure if it were simply my imagination.

"Yes. That's the blood flow. What else?"

I could smell it as well, less muddy than the deer, warmer and more meaty. "I can smell it too. I think it's there, about a quarter of a mile away." I pointed. The distance I was estimating based on the fact that I could feel the heat and smell it so much more clearly than I could the deer.

"I think you're probably right. Predators are a little faster, and it's best if you can grab them from the back. The claws and teeth won't bother you, but they will damage your clothes."

I nodded. I wanted to avoid the sound of the ripping fabric. It set my teeth on edge. I sprang and found myself face to face with a coyote that made a quick snarl and then ran away from me. I overtook it quickly, scooped it up in my arms, and sank my teeth into its neck. It let out a loud yelp of pain, but the struggling stopped quickly. This blood taster better to me. It had a sweetness and clarity to it that the deer blood hadn't had. I drained it quickly.

I felt much better after that, and jogged back to Esme.

"Oh, you got a little dribble there," she said, smiling. "But that was excellent. You are going to be quite a hunter, Rosalie."

I liked the sound of that. No one had ever complimented me on anything other than my beauty before. I also liked the idea of my own strength, my own predatory nature. It made me feel powerful.

"Would you like to return to the house? Perhaps you will be able to meet Carlisle and Edward properly now that you're not thirsty. It takes a long time to learn to ignore those feelings of competition when you're in need of a hunt. This time, let's walk so that we can talk to one another."

"I would like that, Esme." And I meant it.

"How are you feeling, Rosalie?"

"Better now that I ate," I smiled.

"That's not really what I meant. You've had so much trauma the past few days. And the transition isn't easy under the best of circumstances."

"I'm not sure, really," I said. "I don't think Edward likes me. That makes me angry, I think. I feel strange around all of you. I don't really know you, and to have you speak of me as if I'm family is…" I ran out of words and was distracted by the beauty of my own voice.

"I know it's difficult. I hadn't met Carlisle at all when he found me and turned me. I was in similar circumstances to you. I was gravely injured and would have died otherwise. Carlisle chose to save me. I'll never really know what he saw in me that made him want to keep me near. He's tried telling me, but I still don't really understand. I don't think I'm meant to."

"What had happened to you?"

"I jumped off a cliff," Esme said, quite matter-of-factly. I stared at her, surprised. She was such a calm person. I couldn't imagine her doing something like that. She caught the look on my face and said, laughing quietly, "I wasn't always the person I am now. There was pain and darkness in my life before. But the last was the worst. I lost a child. He lived only hours after he was born, but I didn't think that I could go back to my life before. So I chose not to."

We didn't speak for a while. I let that sink in. I wondered if that's what I would have done had been able to survive the horrible things that those men did to me. I doubted that anyone would have believed that it was Royce. Anger surged up in me so strongly that I felt I'd explode. I bent to pick up a rock, thinking I'd throw it, but my angry grip was too much for it, and when I threw it, it was already sand.

"I'm so sorry for the reason that you are here with me now," Esme said quietly. "But please believe me when I say that there is hope that you won't always feel this way. Men were cruel to me in life, too. Well, one man was cruel to me."

I looked at her questioningly. What had she survived? "My husband. He was a brutal man. I was bruised every day of our marriage. He hit me, pushed me. Once I remember falling down the stairs. I had overslept, and breakfast wasn't ready when he got up. He was a very angry man, and found fault with almost everything around him. My life was a constant stream of beatings and belittling. And it ended when I was pregnant with my son. He had tried not to hit me for months. He had seen his mother lose a baby that way, when his own father kicked her. So he'd tried. Even though he still shouted at me when my sickness got in the way of cleaning or cooking, he didn't strike me, not like he had before. Until the last day." She paused for a moment. Her eyes sparkled a little; she was clearly lost in a memory.

"We had argued after church. I had spoken to a man I'd known in school. He was a dear friend whom I hadn't spoken to in years. He was visiting relatives. He was very glad to see me, and I suppose he held my hand a bit too long when he greeted me. My husband was furious. He shouted and shoved me the whole walk home, called me vile names. It was horrible. I kept my arms wrapped around my stomach, trying to shield the baby. I didn't respond to any of it. He kept on and on, shoving me harder and harder, calling me worse and worse things. We finally got home, and went inside. I tried to retreat to the bedroom, thinking maybe he'd leave me alone while I changed, but he grabbed me by the arm, hard, twisting it behind me until I thought it would break. 'That baby in your worthless belly probably isn't even mine, is it? God only knows what you get up to when I'm not around to watch you. You filthy whore.' And he shoved me flat on the floor. He stomped me in the back. The pain was excruciating. I could feel the baby react, kicking and punching me from the inside. My husband picked me up and threw me on the bed. 'Is this what you want, you whore?' he asked. He raped me, violently. I could feel my flesh tearing inside. When he finally left, I heaved myself up, and it was like the world came to an end. My waters poured from me, even through the baby wasn't supposed to be born for another two months. When I looked down, there was so much blood…" her voice broke.

I was appalled. I'd never heard such a terrible thing before. Except maybe what had happened to me.

"He wouldn't take me to the doctor. He left the house, telling me that if the little bastard died, so much the better. He didn't want to raise another man's child. I had to walk a mile to a neighbor's house for help. By then the baby was on the way. He was born two hours after I got there, before the midwife or the doctor could get there. He took a breath and cried a little, but he was blue. He stayed that way. He just wasn't big enough to make it. Another hour or so passed, and he was gone." She wiped away something from her cheek. A tear.

"My husband wouldn't come, so the midwife offered to take me home. I refused, knowing that I couldn't go home without my baby. The neighbors let me sleep for a while. When I woke up, the house was dark. Everyone else had gone to sleep. The baby was laid out next to me. He was cold. I lifted him up, and got out of bed. The pain was horrible, and I was still bleeding, but I had to leave that place. I carried my baby, stumbling through the woods. I didn't know where I was going, but when I came up to the cliff's edge, clearly visible in the moonlight, I knew that the only thing I wanted was to join my baby. So, still holding his still little body in my arms, I jumped."

I just stared at her, horrified. We were still. We'd stopped walking while Esme told her story. She just cried and cried for a while, perfectly still while the tears poured down her beautiful pale face. I didn't know what to do. I finally reached out and touched her gently on the shoulder. She bent her head down until her cheek rested on my hand for a moment.

"Carlisle had been out hunting that night. He was attracted by the smell of the blood that still poured down my legs. And he heard my cries. He ran to my side as I lay dying at the foot of the cliff. When he picked me up to race me back to his home, I still clutched the baby in my arms. After he changed me, we buried him together. He was nearly as sorrowful as I to have to do it. My husband died soon after. I'm not certain, they'd never tell me of course, but I think maybe Edward…" she smiled. "I think that may be part of his aversion to you right now. He remembers everything that I went through, and he dreads seeing it again. Part of it, of course, is that he knew that your ordeal would remind me of wounds that will never heal, and part of it is that he knows that he himself can barely stand it, the cruelty of what happened to you."

"How does he know?" I couldn't bear the thought of them discussing it.

"Edward knows things. He can hear people's thoughts. He knows better than any of us what happened on the street that night. I know my son. He'll never speak of it to you or to anyone else, but it will haunt him, just as my experience did. I am sorry if he seems angry. I don't think that it is truly directed at you."

"Are you ready to meet the family?" she asked softly.

I looked ahead, to where the house stood on the edge of the woods. It was still miles away, but I could see it. My home.


	3. Chapter 3

I took a deep breath, knowing Edward was in there. I was beginning to suspect that not only did he not like me, I didn't think I liked him very much. Had the words "judgmental prick" been in my vocabulary at the time, I would have used them. Loudly. Often.

But I felt Esme's hand pat my back comfortingly. I knew that I liked Esme. She was everything that I'd always wished that my own mother had been. I would do this for her.

"Let's go in," she said softly. I nodded, a little too uptight to speak. I felt much calmer than I had when I first woke, probably from the quantity of animal blood I'd had. "It's not going to be that bad. They're both wonderful men, much better than the human men I knew."

"Okay," I said. We were suddenly on the porch, through the door, and standing in a comfortable room. It was largely white, open, and bright. A piano sat on a raised platform in the corner, next to a stained glass window with a stylized flower in the middle. It cast rainbows over the entire room. The effect was gorgeous, and I thought of the way that my skin had sparkled in the sun earlier. I relaxed momentarily, overcome by the knowledge that this was my home now. It was much more beautiful than the King home, and in a very different way.

Then I smelled Edward and Carlisle. I started to growl, defensiveness running up my back with a hot prickling. Esme grasped my arms firmly. "If you move too fast, you might hurt me," she said. "You don't want to hurt me, do you? And if you hurt them, you'll feel bad about it later. Give this a chance, Rosalie."

I turned to look into her golden eyes. They were very serious, but softened as they took in my face. "Easy, Rosalie, easy. Take a breath. They're good men." She leaned forward and rested her forehead against mine. "Easy. Do it for me."

I breathed deeply, calmed by Esme's presence. I turned to face them. She let go of one arm, but linked one of hers through one of mine. Knowing now how strong I was then, I realize that she was putting herself in harm's way to protect her men. She couldn't have stopped me if I lunged at them, but she probably would have slowed me down a bit. Of course, I would have ripped her arm off in the process, and even though it would have found its way back to her and the damage would have eventually mended, I know from experience that it's grossly uncomfortable and seriously disconcerting to watch your own hand dragging your dismembered arm behind it. At least there's no blood. I might not have felt guilty for doing that to Edward or even Carlisle, but I would have felt monstrous to have done it to Esme. And Edward might have destroyed me on the spot.

"Rosalie is feeling overwhelmed, as you both well know, so take it slow with her," she warned Carlisle and Edward. "Rosalie? This is Carlisle, my husband, for lack of a better word, and this is Edward. My son." The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

"Hello," I said.

Carlisle immediately stepped forward a step. I felt the back of my neck prickle again, but I calmed the growl that rose in my throat. _For Esme, for Esme_, I thought. "Welcome, Rosalie. You must have done very well hunting. No ripped clothes."

"Only one small rip," Esme corrected. "And one little dribble. Nothing that can't be mended. And she took a coyote," Esme said proudly.

"Really?" Carlisle looked at me shrewdly. "She will be an excellent huntress. To take a predator without sustaining damage at this stage is very encouraging. You must have real talent, Rosalie."

I still didn't trust myself to speak. Carlisle continued, "This will get easier. I know from Esme's experience that trust takes a while to develop, but it does come. And you may trust that we will never damage you in any way, no matter what happens." Carlisle was clearly quite sincere. I nodded, and risked a glance over at Edward. The tendons in his neck and arms were pronounced. Clearly, he was tense. Anger flared inside me, and I growled softly. How dare he, I thought, believe himself better than me? No matter what Esme said, I could feel his basic disapproval of me coming off him like heat. His eyes flashed over to meet mine. There was a strange expression in them. Anger, yes, but also pain. The growls faded in my chest. Clearly, I didn't understand him at all.

"No, you don't, Rosalie," he said softly. Carlisle and Esme didn't react at all to what he'd said. They were used to his non sequiturs.

Carlisle cleared his throat in what I know now was simply an imitation of a human behavior. "I think Esme and I will go have a chat in another room. We'll have to plan out a hunting schedule for you, Rosalie. Esme won't be able to go every time, but we'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible on your trips. We'll give you two time to get to know one another."

Esme seemed nervous. She turned to me and, once more leaning her forehead against mine, said, "Please remember. He's my son. Be patient with him. For me."

I breathed in her sweet-smelling breath and tried to focus on her words. "I will try. Esme. For Esme."

She backed away slowly, turning to Edward before she left the room and saying, "She is my daughter just as you are my son. She has been through as much as I had when I first came. In time, you will love her as you love me. Please remember that."

Esme smiled. After a moment, Edward nodded tightly. And Esme and Carlisle left the room.

I walked over to stand by the fireplace, as far away from Edward as I could get. We stood in silence for a long time. I could hear Esme and Carlisle talking softly upstairs, arranging my hunting schedule. I tried not to listen, but my hearing seemed perfectly able to focus on many things at once, just as my vision was. I tried not to think about Edward's presence.

"They mean well, living us alone. They hope that we will be able to work things out and become…something to one another. I don't think they really care what," Edward said.

"I'm not angry with them," I replied. I left the rest unsaid.

"You probably would be eventually," he said.

"Are you angry with them? For changing me? For wanting to keep me?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Edward replied. "I'm not sure it's good for Esme, having you here, with what happened to you. I'm worried that it will reopen old wounds. I know she's already told you about it. She hadn't spoken about it for years until today. I worry about what that means."

_But you don't worry about me_, I thought.

"That's not really true. I know what you've been through. I've seen it in as much detail as both you and Carlisle have. I know what happened. And the anger that I have toward those men is…" He didn't seem able to put it into words.

"You don't want to help me," I said softly. I was trying very hard to think about Esme.

"We met before, you know. At the hospital's annual fundraiser last fall. You were there with your father. Carlisle had insisted that I go for some reason that was never clear to either of us, but I went to please him. You were there, just inside the door, as if you hadn't gotten more than a few feet inside before your admirers were lining up to get your attention. There were so many men around you, I couldn't see you at first. But I could hear your thoughts." He paused for a moment, to give me a moment to recollect the event, I suppose.

I did remember the dinner. It was before I met Royce, and my father wanted to make sure that I met my share of young doctors and doctors' sons. They were boring. I had been thinking of how much I enjoyed the attention and how I didn't really think that any of these men were good enough. My mother had been prepping me for years on how to select an appropriate mate. And none of these men were right…all new money, new to Rochester, no political aspirations. All wrong.

I was grossly embarrassed. "I didn't know better then."

Edward nodded. "I know. Things will be different for you now. Unfortunately, I don't know what that means for you. You seem angry, much angrier than when Esme joined us. The problem with being vampire, aside from the need for blood, is that you freeze in the state in which you ended your human life. You remain the same age, the same maturity, and, frequently, the same emotional state. I, for instance, had been horribly ill, and had just lost my mother. As such, I'm a little…" He fumbled with the words for a moment. "Melancholy. And I find it very difficult to connect."

"Why is Esme able to be with Carlisle?" I asked.

"I'm not entirely sure. Something in Esme changed after a few months here. They've been inseparable ever since."

"I thought you said we were frozen."

"We are, largely. But according to Carlisle, there are some sweeping changes, like finding a mate, that can become permanent. Esme and Carlisle will be together forever. They can't go back to the way they were before."

I didn't know if that idea gave me hope. I didn't think that I could ever trust someone that much.

"I don't know if I could either," Edward said quietly.

I couldn't talk about these things any more. "What do my parents think happened to me?"

"Carlisle has had to make an appearance or two at the hospital over the past few days, so he's a little more informed than I am, but it seems that your clothes have been found, along with a great quantity of blood. All of the Kings were out looking, of course." His voice had a bitter edge to it.

"Naturally," I growled.

"Easy, Rosalie. You mustn't let yourself get overly emotional, or you will lose control. Mom won't happy with us." He smiled. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it.

"What do they say happened to me?"

"The rumors aren't far from the truth, actually. That you were attacked. They say that you were probably dumped in the lake."

I couldn't speak. I ground my teeth together.

"They're going to have a service for you in two days."

Two days. It would have been my wedding day.

"What will they bury?" I asked.

"An empty casket, I imagine."

"What's Royce doing?"

"Mourning his fiancée, to all outward appearances. I'm sure he's had his share of drink."

My teeth ground together so that you could actually hear it.

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this." Edward seemed unsure. None of my thoughts were fully formed. They flitted from one violent fantasy to another. Each starring my beloved Royce.

"I'm fine," I spat out through my clenched teeth.

We stood there silently while I attempted to regain my composure. The thought of Royce out with his friends, just like the night that it happened, as if I had never happened, was more than I could bear. I didn't think that I could continue to exist in a world where Royce King continued drawing breaths.

"That's how I felt about Esme's husband," Edward said.

"Did you kill him?" I asked hesitantly, my newly expanded mind filled to the brim with fantasies of putting Royce through what I had been through.

"Yes," Edward said quietly, suddenly so close that we were nearly touching. "Esme does not know for certain. But I did. I would be out in society with Carlisle, pretending to be human, and I would run into someone that Esme had known. The things that they remembered, they way they talked about him, about her, the things they'd seen…I knew that he couldn't be allowed to live."

"Did you…" I trailed off. I didn't really know how to ask if he drank the blood of the man who had killed Esme little by little while she'd lived.

"No," he said harshly, "the idea was repugnant to me."

I nodded. I knew what I wanted to do.

"You can't," Edward said flatly. "I've had two decades to perfect my ability to be around humans. For you, it would be intolerable. The urge to feed, once you smelled human blood, would be irresistible. Even if you managed not to spill any of his blood, just being in the same room with him would be far too much temptation. I seriously doubt that Carlisle or Esme would allow you into town for months, maybe even a year. And not just because you'd be recognized."

I felt the anger build. "And who exactly are any of you to tell me that I can't do anything? I am not a Cullen. I will do what I goddamn please."

"Calm yourself. You are always free to do what you will. But if you are going to remain with us, which you will unless you are prepared to go out on your own, then you will have to play by certain rules. There are others of us, Rosalie, and none of us will tolerate your making our existence known." His voice was cold.

I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to focus on calming. I knew that if I left the Cullens, I would lose Esme. And that would hurt me. After a while, I thought I could speak again.

"And what of the other?" I asked. I meant John, but I couldn't bring myself to speak his name.

"That is a longer story, and one that I think we need Carlisle's input on. Carlisle?" Edward called, although he didn't raise his voice.

Carlisle was suddenly in the room with us. "You want to know about this John?" He asked me.

I nodded. "Was he a vampire? You said that he'd bitten me."

Carlisle hesitated. "I believe he was, yes."

"Why were the fires different?"

Carlisle was puzzled. He looked at Edward for clarification.

"She means that the venoms felt different to her. His was hotter, yours was more like ice." He described my thoughts for Carlisle. I felt a surge of irritation.

"That's very interesting." Carlisle didn't speak for a long while.

"So…different species altogether?" Edward asked.

"Would you mind filling me in?" I snapped.

Edward nodded. "Carlisle is thinking that John may indeed have been a vampire, but a different species of vampire. What would that mean for Rosalie?"

"I'm not sure," Carlisle said, mercifully beginning to speak his thoughts out loud. "I'd have to know more about the other venom. It would mean finding John and obtaining a sample. And I'd need to know more about your experience, of course. How fast the two venoms seemed to spread, how they affected you. You are clearly an unusual newborn. Every case is unique, of course, but your natural hunting abilities, your aggression, your paradoxical ability to become emotionally involved with Esme…it all adds up to a very unusual situation."

"Do you have any theories?" Edward asked.

"I think that it's clear from what I've seen of these creatures, that they have an effect on the men around them. Perhaps they have a secondary venom. Some centipedes and millipedes, for example, can exude poisonous gases into the air as a defense. There seems to be something of that at work here. Would you have thought Royce King capable of something like this?"

Edward shrugged. "He was always a boor, but capable of this kind of violence, especially against her? I don't think so."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"He was eager to marry you. You were the most beautiful girl in town. That mattered a lot to him. Royce isn't really one to break his own toys," he explained.

"So why did he do this to me?"

"I think what Carlisle is suggesting is that John influenced him to act the way that he did."

"Perhaps," Carlisle said, frowning. "We are only speculating, of course. It would take some study to determine. I don't think the Volturi even have that much information on incubi."

"Incubi?" I asked.

"Have you ever heard of the incubus?" Carlisle asked. When I shook my head, he continued, "They are a form of vampire long thought, even by our own kind, to be myth or exaggeration. They engage in sexual acts with a human female, often horrifyingly violent, always ending in the death of the female. There have been rumors that they could father children with human women, but the research that I've done suggests that we are not compatible with humans. We are as different as horses and flies. There have been no records of a vampire fathering a child with a human, ever. The Volturi have not even heard rumors of any."

"What's a Volturi?" I asked.

"They are a body of vampires, the ruling class, if you will. Should you break the rules, the Volturi respond. They are primarily in charge of keeping our existence a secret."

"So, vampire government?"

"Yes, in a sense." Carlisle smiled.

"So you're thinking that the incubus be considered a different species from us…" Edward prompted.

"Anything's possible, I suppose," Carlisle said. "If only I'd been there a few minutes earlier…"

I hissed. I got the feeling that it wasn't to save me pain. Carlisle was just wishing for a goddamn sample.

Edward said, "He meant no harm by it. Had he found you earlier, he certainly would have intervened."

"Absolutely. I would have intervened had the assailants all been human. I would never have allowed anyone to do this to you, Rosalie." Carlisle was so earnest that I couldn't help but believe him.

I gave a single nod, willing to let the subject drop. Only one thing mattered to me on the subject of the incubus. "Do you know where he went?"

Apparently my thoughts were formed enough for Edward to sense them. "Why?" he asked sharply, probably to call Carlisle's attention to what I was thinking.

"I want to know he's gone. I think I'd feel better," I lied smoothly. I seemed to be able to disconnect my emotions from my behavior, a side effect of being able to think so clearly.

Carlisle paused, looking from his son to me. Edward never spoke, never betrayed me. "He fled the moment he caught my scent. Edward attempted to track him while I was attending you."

"I lost the scent at the water's edge," Edward said bluntly. He didn't elaborate.

"I doubt that he would wait around. Most of us are nomadic, and I'm sure he's no different. Nomads tend to leave if there's even a possibility that they might be discovered." Carlisle looked at me, his eyes full of sympathy. "I'm certain that he's moved on. He can't hurt you anymore."

I wasn't worried about being hurt. I knew that I was capable of things that I never was as a human. I remembered the sound it made when Esme and I clasped hands. I remembered my speed, my strength. I remembered how strong his hands felt when he was snapping my bones, and I thought I could best him.

Edward was staring at me with his eyes narrowed. I couldn't possibly care less that he was hearing every thought and every plan. He wouldn't be able to stop me. No one could.

Carlisle still looked at me with his pitying expression. I wanted to rip it from his face. I didn't want his pity. I didn't want his fathering or his coddling. I didn't need it.

Edward snapped. "Get hold of yourself." Carlisle looked his way, puzzled at the angry expression on his face.

Suddenly, Esme was back in the room. She looked from Carlisle to Edward to me. The tension was palpable in the air, like electricity before a storm. "Perhaps it's time we went hunting again, Rosalie."

"It's a little early," Carlisle said, confused. "She doesn't seem thirsty."

"Yes, a little early," Esme agreed. "But I think she may need a break from you two and your theorizing." She sounded reproachful.

"Perhaps," Carlisle said. He seemed disturbed at her vague suggestion that their conversation had been inappropriate. I found her interference annoying. I wanted to know. I deserved to know.

And, for my plans to move forward, I would need to know everything I possibly could about John. About the incubus who killed me.


	4. Chapter 4

"No more," Esme said firmly. "We are going to hunt."

_Dammit_, I thought. But I went to please her. Esme's feelings were the only ones that I cared about at all.

I spoke very little as we made our way into the forest. I was glad that Esme felt the need to go further than our earlier expedition. I hoped that the distance would keep Edward out of my head. And I had some serious thinking to do.

But Esme was not to be deterred from saying what she wanted to say. "I know that you're very angry that your human life has ended. But this life is going to be what you make of it. It can be peaceful, full of beauty and love, or it can be full of anger and violence. In the long run, you're going to yearn for peace. The more you give in to your thoughts of anger and revenge, the harder that peace will be to find."

I really didn't care about what she was saying. I didn't want peace. I wanted only to take the lives of the men, both human and incubus, who had made me this creature.

And the first step was to go to my funeral, to find where the cockroaches were hiding so I could snuff out their miserable existences. I would remove them from the face of the earth. I would make them suffer.

I knew I would probably be buried at the Presbyterian church where I was to be married. After all, I knew the church would be free. The bride was dead. There was a spot in the woods near the water where I would probably be able to see the churchyard. I could watch at a distance, and if the wind were favorable, I probably wouldn't be bothered by the scents of the humans there at my graveside. I would just have to find the moment to slip away. If my mother were busy burying me, the house would probably be empty. I could pay a visit there if I needed.

The thoughts and plans kept coming. I didn't need to focus my whole attention on catching the couple of deer that I drained before we turned to go back to the house. We may have been across the Canadian border by the point that I caught a bobcat and drained it.

Esme watched me closely. She was clearly disturbed by my silence, but she didn't seem to want to intrude. I continued thinking, planning out the day of my funeral. The most difficult part, I knew, was going to be walking away from the house without Edward finding out. If I could arrange a hunting trip with Carlisle, he would probably give me some additional space, especially if I expressed a need for it. I could turn his cloying sympathies to my advantage. If we were a good distance away, I might be able to slip away before Carlisle could notice.

No one would suspect where I was going but Edward, and hopefully by the time he found out that I was gone, I'd be most of the way to Rochester. To see my beloved Royce. I'd have to improvise most of the plan to avoid Edward's meddling, but I thought the bones of the plan I'd come up with while drinking my fill were good.

I tried, on the trip back, to slow myself, and speak more with Esme, to fill my head with thoughts of our conversation to disguise the thoughts I'd had in the forest.

"Esme, when did you stop being so angry?"

"I don't know that I was ever as angry as you, dear. I was mostly sad. I didn't really care much about what had happened to me. The grief I felt for my child was paramount. But that faded when I found that I loved Carlisle. The wounds healed when I found something that made my existence feel more like…life."

I didn't think I had that opportunity. I certainly was never going to love Edward.

"What if that hadn't happened for you? What do you think your life would be like now?"

"I don't really know how to answer that. Carlisle is so much a part of who I am and what my life has become that I can't separate things out that way," she said, but she paused to consider my question. "I was very sad before. I would probably be that way still. Time does not heal a vampire. Something else must change us. A sudden, monumental shift in everything that you thought was important." She looked at me steadily, even though we were still running slowly, at a human pace.

"It's not possible for me, then," I said matter-of-factly.

"Why would that be, Rosalie? You are going to live for a very long time, possibly forever. None of us can see what is coming. There may well be something out there that will fill the holes in your heart."

"My heart," I said bitterly.

"It is still there," Esme said softly. "It may no longer beat, but it is there. Time will not heal the bitterness you feel, but something else may. And that is something that time may bring. In the meantime, you have a family who loves you and unlimited time and resources to pursue anything that you might like. Learning has been a passion of mine since I was turned. In my human life, I had only completed through the eighth grade before I left to work on the farm. Two years later, I was married. So I've completed high school and been to college for an architecture degree. We all love to learn. Edward has been to college three times already. There may be something that you like to do. "

"Maybe I'll take up knitting," I said sarcastically.

"Why not?" Esme chuckled. "I think I learned five years after I'd turned. We never get cold, but the motions are soothing. And the nurses who work with Carlisle really appreciate the socks."

I laughed. Esme was nothing if not selfless. "Maybe you can teach me. I have always had a fondness for hats."

Esme and I chatted about the things that she did to pass the time all the way back to the house. She promised me yarn and paints and books and fabrics, anything that I might like to try. I agreed to everything. I really didn't want to get bored, and the time with Esme would keep my mind occupied around Edward. But I had no real interest in learning any of the arts that Esme was so passionate about. I wanted only to kill. And killing and knitting just didn't seem to mesh.

When we approached the house, I could hear muffled voices inside suddenly cease. I knew that they had continued their discussion of the incubus in my absence. I tried to focus on Esme's current chatter about her passion for historical architecture. I didn't want any of my thoughts to get plucked out of my head.

It seemed to work. Edward seemed preoccupied when we entered the house, and he didn't look up as I entered the room. He was pouring over a manuscript with Carlisle. The paper seemed very old, perhaps centuries old.

Esme was already calling me over to a large table near the fire. She had roll after roll of drawings and sketches to show me. Her face seemed to glow with passion as she unrolled drawings by architect after architect, some I'd heard of and some I hadn't, interspersing her proud show with comments: "Carlisle found me this drawing by Sir Christopher Wren a few years ago. This one is by Thomas Jefferson. This is a Lord Burlington. William Morris. Gustave Eiffel. Otto Wagner." It meant very little to me, but I smiled and nodded. The drawings themselves were startling, most in the artists' own hands. Even I was impressed that she had construction drawings for the Eiffel Tower.

Her collection included more modern buildings, too, and my interest was piqued when I saw these: the Chrysler building and the Empire State Building, both finished the year before; a beautiful house called the D.D. Martin House by an architect I'd never heard of, Frank Lloyd Wright; sketches of furniture by Gustav Stickley. "I actually own that Stickley chair," she said, gesturing from a drawing to a rocking chair in the corner.

I began to be interested, if only because Esme's passion was so strong that it was catching. It was useful to mask thoughts I didn't want Edward to hear. "Tell me about this one," I said, gesturing to the Frank Lloyd Wright. She automatically launched into a lecture about her love of Wright's work. I just let my mind relax and soak in everything she said.

Soon, I realized that the sun was rising outside. The sky had begun to turn pink, and Carlisle had excused himself to begin changing for work. "He likes to get an early start," Esme explained, as I looked startled.

"I just hadn't realized that so much time had passed." I was honestly shocked. Esme's conversation had been so engrossing that I hadn't noticed time passing. And without human tiredness to let me know, we had easily spent the whole night stooped over Esme's collection of drawings.

"What do you do all day?" I asked her.

"It varies. I study, sometimes I have design projects that I work on. Edward always has his music, his books. Sometimes we travel…sometimes to hunt, sometimes just for its own sake. It's actually a very rich life that we lead. We take jobs when we care to. Sometimes Edward goes to high school, to college. He's completed high school here, so we'll probably be moving on in another ten years or so. People start to notice that you don't age."

"So where else have you lived?" I asked. I hadn't thought about the possibility of needing to move.

"We have houses in a number of places: Alaska, Washington State, Maine, Tennessee, Canada, Wales. We need a fair number of overcast days or a low population density. Humans do tend to notice the sparkling." She smiled. "We usually purchase a home in an area. After a generation or two, we can revisit them, and we have a home already prepared. We moved from Forks, Washington, a few years ago. We have a home there, and we'll return to it one day."

That didn't sound so bad, really. It was kind of nice knowing that you had a home already waiting for you. "Are all the houses as beautiful as this one?"

"I'd like to think so. Carlisle does give me free reign to design and renovate as I wish." She smiled.

"What are you planning to do today?" I asked.

"Right now, I work with the City to renovate some of the older residences. Right now, the fashion is to tear down and build more modern, but I try my best to talk them out of it whenever I can. And I try to help them work with better architects to make their modern buildings more aesthetically appealing. I have a meeting in town later today, so I'll leave you with Edward for part of the day. Do you think you two can get along?" Esme looked a little nervous.

"I think I can manage," I said.

"Good. I was planning to let him take you hunting in a little while," she said.

"Actually, do you think that Carlisle would have time before he leaves? I think I was rude to him yesterday, and I'd like to apologize," I said, attempting a nonchalance I didn't really feel.

"I'll ask," she said, smiling. She was pleased that I wanted to spend time with Carlisle.

I worked on emptying my mind of any thoughts that might give me away. I must have been successful, because soon Carlisle was standing at my elbow, and Edward was nowhere to be found.

"You do have time, don't you, Carlisle?" I asked, feigning interest in his schedule.

"Of course, Rose. I don't have to be early every day. Perhaps today I'll run late and merely be on time." He smiled.

"Thank you."

We left the house, waving back at a very happy Esme on the porch. Carlisle laughed quietly. "She does want us all to get along," he said, smiling.

"She is a very kind woman," I agreed.

"Yes, she is. She has the sweetest spirit of anyone I've ever known."

"You love her very much," I said. It was not a question.

"Yes, I do. We have healed each other in ways that I didn't know were possible." Carlisle looked at me, the annoying pity beginning to edge its way across his handsome face.

Best to head that off before the fury built up again. "So, is Edward going to college again now that he's been out of high school for a few years?"

"That's really up to Edward. I imagine that your joining our family will change our plans somewhat. We won't be able to stay where you're so easily recognized. Esme told you about our other homes?" He looked at me for confirmation.

"Yes. Where were you planning to go next?" I asked.

"We were thinking about our house in the Smoky Mountains," Carlisle replied. "Esme has been working on it off and on for a number of years. We haven't lived in it permanently yet. It was an old cabin in a fairly remote area. There's a new national park nearby now, but our cabin is high on a ridge, and not many people even really realize that it's there. We get the occasional hunter who stumbles by, but your self-control will grow enough that they won't be that much temptation. I think you'll like it there. It's quite beautiful, and my skills as a doctor are in high demand."

I hadn't heard of the Smoky Mountains before. They sounded beautiful.

We continued small talk while we ran. "Carlisle?" I finally asked when I thought we were a good distance from the house.

"Yes, Rosalie?"

"I would be a little more comfortable if we hunted further away from one another." Carlisle looked oddly sad at the thought. I quickly added, "I just mean that I feel a little vulnerable when I hunt. I'd just like to do that part alone."

His face eased somewhat, but he still looked a little hurt. When he said, "I understand," it really seemed as if he did.

"Thank you." I was going to feel a little guilty for leaving him alone in the woods, but I was determined to see my funeral. "I'm just going to run east for a while. I think I smell some deer over that way."

"All right," he said, a little uneasily. But I took the opportunity and ran, quickly, east. I ran as fast as I could, a speed that created a wind that whipped the trees around me like a summer thunderstorm. As soon as I thought I'd run five or six miles, I turned north toward the lake. I took a deer quickly, draining him dry in a matter of seconds, and continued on. Another couple of miles, and I was on the hillside overlooking the church. Luck was with me: the wind was blowing the scent of the humans away from me.

I didn't know if Carlisle could or would follow my scent. I hoped that the speed and the wind I'd created had dissipated it a little. I didn't really know at the time, but I'd hoped. I settled down in the shade of a tree.

I could see everything that was happening around the church. Men were finishing digging my grave in the churchyard out back. I was surprised to see that I could see a great deal happening inside the church through the windows. I could see the minister preparing himself by the light of his study window. I could see women in the church hall setting out a luncheon for my grieving family. I wondered if Royce would be eating there, with my mother. The thought made me unspeakably angry, but I choked back the growls that were rising in my chest.

I sat for a fairly long time. The sun shifted position, coming overhead. It was fast approaching early afternoon when mourners began to arrive at the church. People trickled in, more people than I'd ever seen at a single event. _More people than would have come to the wedding_, I thought to myself, and the thought made me even more bitter.

I was so involved watching the people arrive and naming them all to myself that I didn't stop to wonder why my plan was going so well. I didn't smell anyone behind me, and no one spoke until I leapt to my feet with a hiss when Royce arrived at my funeral. Then strong icy hands gripped my arms.

"I don't think so," Edward hissed in my ear.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed back, growls emerging from my chest.

"Carlisle came to get me when you didn't come back. He actually believed the bullshit that you handed him about feeling vulnerable around him. He actually gives a shit about you." Edward was furious, and he wasn't letting go of me.

"Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?" I spat in his direction. I was still looking down at Royce's sobbing figure. He was actually crying over my grave. Anger took over every fiber of my being. I could barely see through the red fury that clouded my sight. And still Edward held onto me.

"I don't give a shit what you're feeling right now. You are putting us all at risk with this selfish behavior."

"Fuck you, Edward. Fuck you all. My murderer is down there."

"Yes, he is, and so is your mother. So is your father, your sister, Vera, Henry…" he continued listing off all of my relatives and friends, picking them out of my head.

"Stop that," I nearly shouted. "My thoughts are private."

"I wish they were," he growled back at me with disdain.

"If my thoughts disgust you, then go where you can't fucking hear them, you piece of shit bastard!"

"You can't go down there. The smell may be tolerable here where the wind is helping you, but if you were to go down there, you'd kill everyone that you came in contact with. You'd feed on everyone at that funeral. Can you imagine? Can you imagine the horror for your mother if her dead daughter came back to slaughter everyone she used to care about? Can you imagine what it would be like to kill your own mother?" Edward demanded. He was beginning to get my attention, but I could still see Royce's fat fucking crocodile tears. "And you will expose all of us. Trust me, the Volturi will not give a shit that you are a newborn. They'll burn you just the same."

"He fucking killed me, Edward. And he's sitting there crying over my grave. Fucking crying for someone to help him. I fucking called out to him when John broke every bone in my body, and do you know what he did? He fucking laughed and took another sip from his flask. He laughed at me while that monster raped me and killed me. And now he's down there." I looked wildly down at the scene in front of me, just in time to see my mother go up to Royce and wrap an arm around his waist. Everything went black for a moment, and I howled wildly, pulling against Edward's restraining arms. I wanted to rip Royce to shreds, into tiny pieces. My mother looked up at the hillside where I was standing just as I felt my body fly through the air. My body crashed against a tree, and it snapped off at the base. Edward had flung me back into the woods.

And now he was standing between me and my prey.

"What makes you think I won't kill you too, _brother_?" I hissed.

"I know you will try," he said calmly.

I lunged forward, determined to fling him out of my way, but he was fast, lunging aside and grabbing a fistful of my hair to fling me back further. I reached out a hand and managed to punch him in the jaw. I felt something break in his face with a screech.

I liked it.

I lunged at him again. Again he stepped aside, but he grabbed my arm, quickly pinning them behind me. I howled again in frustration. He knew each move I was going to make before I made it. He had the advantage, even if I was stronger. If I couldn't beat him, I was at least going to leave my mark.

My hands were somewhat free. He gripped me near my elbows. I lunged quickly to the side, reaching my hand back to grip one of his arms, his shirt, anything.

I got only sleeve, but I pulled it with such force that it ripped, jerking his arm away from mine. I spun quickly, grabbing his other arm. He tried to block me with his forearm, and our arms clashed together with a monstrous rumble. His attention shifted for a moment, probably in response to the thoughts drifting our way from the funeral below. It was all I needed.

I reached and managed to grab his arm. I lifted it behind him, pushing his body forward until we both tumbled to the ground. I leapt up as Edward tried to as well, and kicked him in the back. One sickening screech, and I was left holding Edward's arm.

"Dammit, Rosalie," Edward groaned. "Fuck! Fuck!" He was clearly in pain.

I felt bad about that. "What do I do?" I was starting to panic. I really hadn't meant for it to go that far.

"Get the fuck back to the house. Get Carlisle! Fuck! Goddamn it!"

He was starting to very nearly scream in pain. His arm wriggled in my grasp, shuddering. The fingers of his hand reached toward the rest of his body.

"What do I do with the arm?" I asked.

"Give it back to me, you bitch!"

I snarled. The anger rose in me again. I threw the arm at him. It hit him hard on the side of his head. "Fuck you!"

"Excuse me?" Edward was beginning to sound hysterical. "You ripped my arm off, and you're seriously going to get mad at me for calling you a bitch? Goddamn, you are a piece of work." He laughed bitterly.

I walked closer to him, pacing around him like a lioness around her prey. I finally leaned in close. "Get Carlisle yourself, asshole."

Edward reached up with his good hand and grabbed a fistful of my hair. "I wish Carlisle had never turned you." With a surprisingly strong wrench, he tore that chunk of hair out by the roots.

I screamed, so loudly that the trees around me bent double as if in a gale. The mourners below looked up at the sky uneasily, clearly of the impression that a storm was coming.

It was.

"I'll kill you if you ever fucking touch me again." I was shouting. The hairpulling reminded me of Royce ripping my hat from my head. "I will kill you and burn your worthless carcass. You are no better than that piece of shit down there. No, you're worse, walking around like you're so much above the rest of us. Like you haven't committed murder in your life. You will not get in my way. I'm going to kill Royce, I'm going to kill every one of his raping, murdering friends, and when I'm done, I'm going to kill John. I don't give a shit what he is. I'm going to find him and kill him. I'm going to make every one of them sorry that they ever even thought about hurting me. I will be damned if they will ever hurt someone else again, and I will not rest until every fucking one of them is dead and buried. And I swear by all that is holy that if you ever get in my way again, I'll rip off a hell of a lot more than your fucking arm."

I was panting raggedly, almost hyperventilating. I was absolutely hysterical.

And then a calm presence was behind me. I snarled and spun around, ready to rip apart the intruder.

I froze in my crouch. It was Esme. She had her hands uplifted in front of her, as if she'd need to defend herself against me. I was panting, each fiber of my being on fire with anger and grief. I was suddenly bent double under the weight of it, and I sank to my knees. Tears ran down my face. These were so different from human tears, ice cold even to my senses. She came to me and sank to her knees in front of me. She stroked my hair and kissed my forehead, sweet gestures with which I was totally unfamiliar. Slowly my breathing began to calm, and she turned her attention to Edward, who was huddled over his dismembered arm, looking at us in disbelief.

Esme stood quickly, ripping off the bottom foot or so of the skirt she was wearing. "Edward, please give me your shirt." Edward took off the tattered remains of his shirt, and Esme quickly knotted the strip and shirt together. She knelt beside him, took up the arm. "Hold this in place for me," she said softly. She wrapped the makeshift bandage around his shoulder and again around his waist, bracing the arm against his body. "Your venom will start reconnecting your arm soon. It won't be comfortable. I understand from Carlisle it stings quite a bit. We'll help you get back to the house. Rosalie?"

I understood at once she was asking for my help. I was frozen. Edward was enemy still, and she wanted my help to get him home. To a home we were supposed to share. "Rosalie, I can't do it without you. Please help me." Esme was insistent, but I also felt the choice implicit in her words. I could help and return home, or I could refuse and go my own way. Alone. I closed my eyes, needing time to sort through the feelings that were choking me.

I hated Edward with every fiber of my being. And I was certain he hated me. Carlisle, I didn't really care about. I felt slightly guilty because he had, in a sense, saved me, but if he hadn't, I would actually be in the box that they were burying in the valley below. I wouldn't be here, caught in the grasp of emotions that I didn't really understand. The turmoil would have ended. And I saw no end in sight. I couldn't forgive him for the agony I was going through, agony to which he'd played so great a part. But I would try to forgive them both so that I could stay with Esme. She was so kind and gentle, everything I'd never known humans to be. She was the center of my new world, and I couldn't bear to be without her.

I nodded tightly, without opening my eyes. When I finally did, she was looking at me with that curious mixture of empathy and love. She knew how I felt, I knew. It was the empty sympathy that Carlisle gave me. She really did know.

I walked slowly over, took Edward's good arm, and wrapped it around my shoulders. I had to work very hard to go slowly enough for Esme and Edward, but lifting him was no problem. I probably could have lifted him in my arms with no trouble, but I couldn't bear to do it, and Esme would never have asked.

We made our way slowly – well, slowly for us – back to the house. Carlisle was waiting for us. He was late for work.

"I see you two had some trouble," he said matter-of-factly. He didn't meet my eye. He quickly looked over the bandaging that Esme had done. "Well done, Esme. I have nurses who couldn't do better." He kissed her gently and turned to Edward and me.

"We'll have to talk about this later. I'm sure Esme has a thing or two she'd like to say to you. Edward, try to keep still for the rest of the day. The wound is already starting to bind. You should be healed by the evening. Rosalie, please stick close to the house. And try not to rip the limbs off of anyone else today, please." He smiled a tight smile, clearly annoyed at being late, but I didn't sense any real anger in him. I couldn't understand that.

"Well, since it's too late for my meeting, Rosalie, why don't we leave Edward to rest, and you tell me what happened today?" Esme said softly, only the slightest note of disapproval edging into her voice. She led me quietly but firmly out of the room. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Edward smiling smugly at me. I had a temptation to stick my tongue out at him, but I resisted. Instead, I rolled my eyes and followed Esme. My mother. I wondered how much trouble I was in, and what the punishment would be. I was seldom punished as a human…my mother didn't really bother that much with me. I did get spanked a time or two and had to clean up messes I'd made.

I just wasn't sure how to clean up this mess.


	5. Chapter 5

I waited nervously for Esme to speak. She settled herself into the Stickley chair near the unused fireplace, folded her hands in her lap, and gazed steadily at me. Was she waiting for me to explain?

"Esme, I'm sorry." It came out as a mumble.

"Sorry for what, dear?" she asked softly. She wanted me to say it out loud.

"I'm sorry that I lied to Carlisle." I wouldn't apologize for hurting Edward. I would never apologize for that.

"I'm sure that he'd like to hear that when he gets home from the hospital. He's an uncommonly honest person. He might understand why you lied, but he won't like it. He would never say that, of course. Not to you." She smiled gently. "However, the thing that I'm truly worried about is what happened between you and Edward." She tilted her head, probably expecting to hear an apology for that too.

"I can't apologize for hurting him, Esme. I was protecting myself." I suppose on the surface that that was true. However, there was a satisfaction I got from hearing the pop of his arm coming off his body that went far beyond simply protecting myself. It just felt good. I got lost in the fantasy of doing the same to men whose arms wouldn't simply reattach or grow back, men who would bleed and suffer. And die.

"I'm sure that wasn't all, Rosalie. You know, we all have darkness inside of us. I think letting it out can be healthy. Sometimes. But I think allowing that side of ourselves free rein, allowing it to be the ruling force in our lives is…ruinous. People with our backgrounds have to learn to forgive so that we can move on."

"But you were avenged. You have to know that. Your husband is dead. Those men…those men were at my funeral. No one will avenge me. Nothing will ever happen to them." I couldn't believe she was telling me this…to move on while those monsters still walked among decent people?

"That is true. It makes it easier for me, knowing that I survived and he is dead. Knowing he could never even lay eyes on me again, much less a hand." She paused, thoughtful for a moment. "But I forgive him, Rosalie. I don't excuse what he did to me, I certainly don't understand that kind of cruelty, but he's got no power over me anymore. His memory doesn't hold any pain for me. I know that emotionally it will be difficult for you, being vampire. We can't grow and change the way humans can. All I'm asking is that you have faith that there will come a time when something will change for you, a change that will make forgiveness possible. And I think that is going to happen for you." She got up and came over to me. I was sitting on the rug, and she knelt beside me. She reached out and touched my hair, stroked it softly. "You have much to offer…your strength, your capacity for love, your tenacity. Eternity is a long time, Rosalie. Things will change for you. There is a wide world out there for you to see. Since I became vampire, I have learned so much, seen beautiful things that I never thought I would." Her hand drifted down to rest on my cheek. "And I have found love in so many unexpected places." Her golden eyes rested on mine. There was only love there, no trace of the anger that I thought she'd have toward me.

My throat felt tight. I was tired of showing everyone my emotions, so I choked back the tears that threatened to well up again. I just nodded. I knew she was telling me that she loved me. And I knew I loved her too.

Esme leaned forward and embraced me tightly. "This is your home, Rosalie. We are your family, and we will stand by you through all of this. All of us will." Her voice was steely, and I knew she was unhappy with Edward. That made me a little happier.

"I'm going to go talk to Edward now." She gestured to the room around her and said, "Why don't you look around? You've had very little time to yourself since the change. Explore. Everything here is yours." She got up and swept out the door, beautiful and graceful in spite of the torn and dirty skirt she was wearing.

I just continued to sit. I have to admit, I was quite curious as to what she'd say to Edward. The smug look he'd given me as I left the room with Esme made me believe that he thought he'd get off easy for what happened in the woods. I'd seen the steely look she'd had when she promised they'd all help me. I had a feeling he was in for a surprise, in spite of the fact that he could read thoughts.

I listened. They were many rooms away, but I could hear them as clearly as if I were in the same room.

"Esme, I know you're unhappy. I can see what you're thinking. I just can't understand why you are so attached to this girl. She's not the person you are. Not by a long shot."

"Your problem, Edward, is that you seem to think your abilities make you omniscient." Esme's tone was one I hadn't heard before. She wasn't angry, but she was definitely annoyed. "You don't understand how I feel or how Rosalie feels. You've seen me suffer, you've seen my memories, you've seen what happened to her. You probably know more of the details of both our ordeals better than we do. But you don't understand what really happened to Rosalie on that street. Not like I do."

"Esme, I…"

"Edward, I don't really want to hear it. Rosalie was wrong to hurt you. I know that."

"You didn't say anything like that to her."

"No, I didn't. That's not the most important thing that happened in the woods. You are healing. You will bear no scars of any sort from what happened this morning. Do you think Rosalie will be that lucky?"

Edward didn't respond.

"You need to understand that no matter how you felt about Rosalie when she was human, that person is gone. Had she survived the ordeal as a human, she would still be completely different. All those things that I've heard you say about Rosalie Hale, her conceit, her shallowness, her…bitchiness, I believe you called it, those were lost on that street. Maybe you should get to know your sister as she is now, and not hold that against her. Now, I have to change. I need to get to City Hall and apologize to the mayor. He's a parent. Hopefully, he'll understand."

I heard Esme's footsteps leave the room, Edward's sigh echoing after her.

I was alone.

I got up from the rug and wandered aimlessly around the room. It was lined with books, oil paintings, maps. I ran my finger over the spines of the books on the shelf. I picked one out at random and opened it to read. _Tess of the d'Urbervilles_. How appropriate, I thought, as I settled in to read my own story from a different point of view.

The afternoon passed silently. Edward didn't seek my company, and I hadn't expected him to. I read much faster than I had as a human. I was less distractible, even though I was getting seriously annoyed with Tess and her weak behavior. "Grow a spine," I growled under my breath. I knew she eventually would, in the end, but the mooning and pining and doing what everyone expected of her, no matter what the cost to herself…really annoying. And so very familiar.

"My spine is sufficient, thank you." Edward's voice came from the doorway. Strange that I didn't hear him come in, I thought to myself.

"How is your arm?" I asked, noticing that his sling was gone.

"Good as new." He chuckled and flexed his fingers on that hand. "I might even play the piano again. Nice move, by the way. You had me pinned before I knew what was happening."

"Thanks, I guess." I was wary of his friendly advances, knowing that he was just trying to please Esme.

"Maybe I am," Edward said softly, "But she's right. About a great many things. She never got very far in school while she was alive, but she's more than made up for it since her death, I think. She's educated herself and become very, very wise."

"I don't think her wisdom has much to do with the books she's read or the degrees she's gotten." He pissed me off assuming that she'd learned what she knew from books.

He nodded. "She's certainly right that I can't understand how either of you feel, having been abused in such terrible ways. I'm sorry that I ever assumed that I did. I was wrong."

I blinked. What the hell? I thought. Edward Cullen admitting he was wrong?

He smiled again. "Not about everything. Just about this."

I had been wrong, too. Edward wasn't a danger to me, and that's not really why I tore him apart.

"I know, Rosalie. You were carried away."

"You know, everyone knows about the whole mind-reading thing. You could let people choose what they want to say before you interrupt." He was pissing me off doing that.

"Of course. I'm sorry." He hesitated for a moment. "I think I interrupted you this morning before you were done with everything that you wanted to do."

Duh, I thought. Royce was still alive wasn't he?

Edward pretended that he hadn't heard me. "I think you had intentions of getting your wedding dress?"

I nodded, surprised that he'd even remember that. I suddenly noticed that there was a rather large bundle at his feet.

"I took the liberty. I'm not sure why you'd want it. You probably have plans for it?"

I nodded.

"Well, here it is. Everyone was still at the church, so I slipped into your house. It was hanging in your closet. I probably should have asked if there was anything else you wanted, but I wanted this to be a surprise. We can go back sometime if there's anything you need."

"There isn't." I was touched by what he'd done for me. "Edward, I…I shouldn't have hurt you this morning. And…thank you for the dress." I felt suddenly awkward. I didn't know how to be nice to him.

He gave a little head jerk and ran his hand through his hair. "So…what are you reading?"

I looked down at the book. I'd continued to read for an hour or two, even though I'd lost patience with the storyline and the characters. "_Tess of the d'Urbervilles_."

"Interesting choice. I would have thought you wouldn't be interested in that. She seems too weak for you."

"Did you pick that out of my thoughts?"

He laughed. "No. You must have thought that while I was out getting your dress."

I smiled a little. It felt strange on my new face.

He hesitated for a moment, the smile slowly fading from his face. "I know you probably heard what Esme said." He looked at me from the corner of his eye. I didn't deny or confirm what he'd said, so he went on, "She's right of course. About me. I have been holding who you were when you were human against you. And I have assumed that I knew how Esme felt about things because I could see her thoughts. I was seeing you as that same spoiled girl you used to be. And I know that Esme's been thinking about her own situation much more lately, more than she has in years. So I was looking at your presence as…hurtful to her. Since I didn't like you as a human, I was seeing someone I didn't like hurting someone I loved. I was wrong on all points."

I was stunned. Edward Cullen admitting he was wrong and apologizing for it? Being honest about not liking me? Surreal.

I knew he'd heard my thought, but he didn't respond to it. "Esme's right. I can't possibly know how it feels for either of you. And I should get to know you without holding your human self against you."

"I appreciate that, Edward," I said softly.

We sat in silence for a while, neither one of us adjusting well to the new peace between us.

"Esme has a lot of faith in you," Edward said. "She has a lot of faith in me, too. We should try not to let her down." He reached out a hand toward me as if to shake on it. I looked at it for a while and finally reached out my own. "Gently, now," he said, and chuckled. I realized it was the same arm I'd ripped off that morning. I laughed for the first time. It sounded like the bells at church, and I felt the momentary lightness ebb away from me.

"This is much harder on you than I'd realized." Edward's eyes were sad as they looked into mine. "I have always had a great deal of respect for women. I was very close to my mother. She died in the influenza epidemic that would have killed me, had Carlisle not turned me. She asked Carlisle to turn me. I don't think she could bear the thought that my life would be cut so short. I still miss her. I think we all have our crosses to bear, remnants of our human lives that haunt us. Carlisle has been vampire for centuries, but he still, on some level, wants to prove to his father that he isn't evil, that even vampires can create some good in the world. We all have our ghosts."

"How long have you known Carlisle?"

"I was the first one he turned, in 1918. We have been together…almost ever since."

"Almost?"

"I have been away, until fairly recently. Carlisle and Esme covered my absence by saying I was away at college, but I was living…more naturally."

I was confused, and waited for him to explain.

"Living on animals is difficult at times. Our bodies really aren't made for it, and I began to question why it is we live as we do. So I left for a time to feed in a more natural way."

I was shocked, realizing suddenly what he meant. "So you…fed from humans?"

"For a time, yes. It was difficult for me. I selected prey who…were dangerous. Your fiancé and his friends would have been ideal for me."

I sat for a while, stunned at what he was telling me. "Carlisle and Esme realize that I must have fed. My eyes have faded now, but they are still a little darker than theirs. When I came back, they were red, much like yours. They don't talk about it, though, and they don't judge me for it. They are very forgiving people."

My mind was racing. Could I do what Edward had done? Could I kill those men and feed from them? It would be easy, of course, to give in to those impulses. Even the faint scent of the mourners on the breeze was tantalizing. I could only imagine how strong it would be if I were to be in the same room with humans.

"It would be impossible to resist," Edward said softly, not even turning to look in my direction. "And would you want any more of those…humans…inside you?" His voice took on a bitter edge.

And he was right. The thought of their blood inside my body turned my stomach. Human blood or not, theirs was polluted. And I wanted no part of it.

"I want them dead, Edward," I said softly.

"I know. I can't say that I don't want the same thing. But you are a newborn. This isn't something that you can do."

"Not alone. You hurt me this morning, but you kept me from going down to that funeral when I shouldn't. You could help me."

"Rosalie, if you were in town, you would be a danger to everyone there. And you'd be a danger to us…you'd expose us all."

"But if I'd fed…this morning I could smell the blood on the breeze, and I resisted. I did, Edward."

"I know, Rose, but this would be very close, from every direction, close enough to feel the pulse beating in the neck, the heat rising from live flesh…"

Flames suddenly lit up the inside of my throat, and I clawed at it.

"Just hearing me describe it is too much for you. How would you manage?"

I struggled to overcome the searing dryness in my throat. After a few moments, I beat it back to a level tolerable enough to speak. "I don't want them inside me. Never again. If I fed beforehand, came in at night when most people are asleep, went back ways and roads so that I didn't meet people…I might be able to manage it. If I had help."

I looked into his eyes, begging him for his help without words, playing instead for him what happened to me that night, showing him where these men lived and played, showing him the routes I could take that would keep me most away from the townspeople. I put into words my feelings and the depth of my hatred of these men. But I played it all in my head, moving pictures for him to view.

"Rosalie, I…" he choked over the words, overcome by his emotions.

"I need to do this, Edward. I don't think I can get over this as long as they're living. I just can't move on knowing that they're still out there, that they can still hurt other people, knowing that they can go on with their lives, and get married, and have children…" I broke off, unwilling to show that much emotion around Edward. Our truce was still too fresh.

"Carlisle and Esme won't approve," he said softly, horrified by what I knew would soon be an agreement to help me.

"They don't have to know," I said softly. "They want us to get along, and they want me to get better. This will help accomplish both."

"I don't think they'd want it to happen this way. Carlisle values all human life."

"Even lives spent as they've chosen? Edward, they raped me. They beat me."

Edward's long fingers raked against his cheeks. I could tell that he was caving, but the process was painful to watch. He was in agony, thinking about killing more people. I had to press my advantage, though. Even though I really didn't want to hurt him any more.

"They will do it again. You know they will."

"Carlisle thinks that it might have been temporary. That they might have been influenced by the presence of the incubus, like an infection."

"Even if that is true, who knows if the infection is permanent or not? What if it worsens, like syphilis? What if what they did to me is just the beginning?"

Clearly, that hadn't occurred to him. He looked at me, horrified.

"You can bring samples back for Carlisle. You could learn about it, find out if I'm right. No one really knows what the incubus does to humans…the males anyway. You could help him find out."

He was almost there, I could tell. Softly, I said, "I need this Edward. You know I do." I played for him the scene at my graveside…Royce, with my mother's arms wrapped around him. "I can't have him that near my mother ever again." The implication was thick in my voice. My mother was, after all, a beautiful woman. Who's to say Royce could resist?

"We will need to plan this thoroughly. You will have to listen to me, do exactly what I say without hesitation. It will take time."

"I will do whatever you say needs to be done," I said, not breathing until he gave me my answer.

He sighed deeply, and reached out to touch the thin place where he'd ripped my hair that morning.

"I will help you, then, in any way I can. For now, I think you and I should hunt. I know your thirst is bothering you." The flames renewed themselves. I nodded. My throat was too dry to speak.

Edward and I stepped out into the daylight. The sparkling skin was not something I could get easily used to, but we were both so beautiful that it was difficult not to look. We didn't run, preferring to walk. We were beginning to get somewhat used to one another's presence. I wondered if we'd ever actually like one another. Edward didn't respond to my thought. I'm sure he wondered the same thing.

"Thank you, Edward," I said. "I know…I know I'm not the easiest person to be with. I never have been. I'm….spoiled."

"You're welcome. I'm not really an easy person either. I have my own things I've never gotten over. I have a temper, same as you. I think people are more willing to accept it from a man than a woman. Aggression in women is…discouraged. I find it distasteful myself."

"You could make it easier to avoid, then." I was getting pissed at him again.

"I'm sorry. I'm just being honest. I think it's something that I can get over. I think it's something I should get over. Strength can some in all varieties, I suppose. Why should you be required to be just like Esme?"

"I couldn't be like Esme. We're different people. We've just been through similar things." God, I hope nobody expected me to be like Esme. That would be an impossible road for me. "I wasn't soft like that when I was alive, either. I don't mean that in a bad way," I added quickly, sensing Edward's displeasure in the implied criticism. "I love Esme. I'm just not like her."

"Really, who is? I've never known anyone who so put others before herself."

"She's very different from my mother. She would never…could never…deal with what really happened. She's not good with feelings. No wonder…" I faded off, unwilling to finish my sentence. No wonder I was such a mess, I thought, knowing Edward would hear.

"I'm really very sorry about this morning. My language, pulling your hair like that. It was very wrong. I let my temper get carried away. Sometimes I wonder if consuming the blood of those men has damaged me in some way. Other than the guilt I have from killing people, from knowing that I have the soul of a murderer…" It was his turn to trail off what he was saying.

"I don't think that's true, Edward. I…I think you're a good person. A good person who's done bad things."

"You don't feel that way about the men who hurt you," he said bluntly. "You think they deserve extermination. Why do I deserve anything different?"

"You helped people by taking those men off the streets. You knew what they were capable of. You knew their thoughts."

"I am not supposed to judge. I'm not…worthy. I'm not good," he was beginning to have a desperate edge to his voice.

"If I'd killed the men who were attacking me, if I'd been able to do so as a human, would that have made me evil?" I was beginning to worry he'd go back on our agreement.

"But these men weren't attacking me."

"What were they thinking when you made the decision to take them?" I asked, knowing that Edward would have made damn sure that they were bad people, not people having errant thoughts.

"Different things. I tried to be sure that they were about to harm someone, women or children mostly."

"So, they weren't just thinking something, they were getting ready to act?" I said

He nodded.

"Then what's the harm? You killed someone who was going to kill or hurt someone innocent. Some people would think that made you a hero. I do." I was surprised to find that I actually meant that, that I wasn't just saying it to manipulate him into going through with what he'd promised me in the study.

"I think you're biased, but thank you nonetheless. I can't consider myself a hero for taking a life, though." Edward was silent for a long time, and we eventually found ourselves deep in the woods. Even walking, we were very fast.

"What creatures do you like to feed from?" I asked.

"I like mountain lions, but they're not as common here. I was impressed that you took a coyote. They're pretty skittish."

I smiled, surprised at the praise. "Are you thirsty?" I asked. "Or are you just making sure that I don't run over to Rochester and do what comes naturally?" I winked.

He laughed. "No, I'm a little thirsty. I don't need much, but a little snack would be nice."

We sniffed the air together, trying to pinpoint our prey. My mouth was dry, but I smelled the irresistible smell of a predator near the stream just east. "Are you ready, Edward?"

"Let's hunt," he said, and we launched ourselves into the woods.


	6. Chapter 6

A week passed, with no further conversation on our plans. Esme was happy at our truce, and life for that week settled into a pleasant routine, with Carlisle and Esme leaving early in the morning for work and Edward and I settling in to read or otherwise pass the time quietly until they got back. Occasionally I would go for a walk in the woods, perhaps hunt a little, but mostly I just wanted to go sit by the stream and let its soft noises calm me into at least a façade of patience.

I was determined to have Edward broach the subject. I was not going to break the silence or push. I wanted him to know that he was going to be my leader. I hated letting him have the lead, letting any man have the lead, but I knew that he would keep me out of trouble and keep my plan on track. He'd ensure that those men ended up dead. I just wished he'd do it a little faster.

I couldn't control my thoughts, though, and I knew that he was aware of how often my thoughts turned longingly to images of those men dying at my hands. I was in the middle of one of these fantasies when I heard Edward sigh deeply. I turned to look at him, and he tossed the book he'd been reading aside.

"You've been very patient, Rosalie. But I can see that you're not going to be able to forget about this."

"Of course not." I didn't understand what made him think that forgetting would even be an option.

"I suppose that we should start our plan, then?" He looked at me, eyes narrowed, wanting to see once more that I was willing to let him be involved in every step.

I nodded. I was too excited to speak, and I wanted to at least appear to be calm.

"I think the first thing we should do," he began, striding over to Esme's plan cabinet and removing from one of its long shallow drawers a map of Rochester, "is to go over where each of these men live, work, and play. We can figure out where the best place would be to ambush each one." He laid the map carefully out on the table in the middle of the room and smoothed it with his hands. "I assume you want to leave Royce for last?"

I felt the smile spread slowly across my face, and the mental images that had been playing on continuous loop began anew.

"I take that as a yes," Edward said, smiling a little. "So, we have how many? Five? Not counting John, of course."

"Five. Richard Hallowell, Billy Jeffries, Robert Stephens, Charles Smythe, and Ted Jackson." Royce's crowd. First sons of the ruling families of Rochester. Soon to become the late sons of the ruling families of Rochester. The thought made me smile again.

"Okay, I assume you know where each man lives?" I nodded. "Okay, mark them on the map for me."

I picked up a pencil and began. Each man lived very near the center of town, the oldest part. It was not here they'd meet their ends, I was almost certain. There were always too many people around. Their homes were within a half mile of one another and formed a crescent shape in the middle of the map. Like a bite mark.

"That's not promising," Edward commented. "You're quite right about that. But there are some points in the day when we might catch them there without too many people around. We'll learn a little more about their schedules while we're gathering information."

I fought back the impatience that rose in my chest at the thought that we'd have to put in so much research. I wanted to head to Rochester at that very moment, begin at one point of the crescent and work to the other, laying waste to anyone and everyone in my path.

"But that is not conducive to keeping our existence a secret is it?" Edward spoke softly, not judging me, just reminding me of my responsibility to our family. To Esme.

I shook my head once, tightly, trying desperately to gain control. "What else do you need to know about town?" I asked, trying to keep the process moving.

"Where do these men work? Just keep marking buildings with their initials the way you did with the houses."

Three of the men worked in the same bank as Royce. Not helpful. Charles Smythe didn't work at all, just waited for his father to pass on the family money. He preferred to spend all of his time in the club. I marked it with his initials and a star. Edward followed my thought process.

"That might work. There wouldn't be many people in that area during the day. I'll check when I go to town later today."

"Can I come?" I asked, eager for something more hands-on.

"No, Rosalie. You're still a newborn. We're running a big enough risk that you'll end up feeding on one of these men. We can't take the chance with an innocent life." He touched my shoulder, gently. "You will get your chance. This is why I am here to help you. To keep us all safe."

**EPOV**

I didn't really want to be involved in Rose's telling of her story, but at this point, she insisted. Actually, she threatened to tell the full story to Bella if I didn't contribute, and, knowing Rose as well as I do, I agreed to tell my part of the story.

I'd hoped she'd forget about our conversation, that she'd just take my acceptance and Esme's love and start anew, forgetting all about what caused her to become one of us. Clearly at that point, I didn't really know Rosalie. After several days in which Rose's thoughts of revenge and murder intruded upon my every action, and the question in her mind became more prominent to the point of nearly screaming at me, I realized that action would have to be taken or Rosalie would never find any peace. And neither would I.

I'd told myself when I came back to Rochester, when I returned to the life that Carlisle had wanted for me, that the killing would stop. Carlisle never discussed it with me. The change in my eye color made my actions as clear to my adoptive parents as if they'd been able to see my thoughts. But their thoughts were only of joy, so happy to see the prodigal son return that they didn't question what I'd done. Part of me wished that they would, so that I could reassure them that I'd only killed evil humans, ones who wanted to harm the innocent. Rapists. Murderers. Child abusers. And always when they were poised to strike. I knew it would make Esme feel better, but Carlisle wouldn't want to hear it. He loathed killing of anyone. He felt no real relief when Esme's husband was found dead. He was glad that he'd never hurt anyone again, but he felt sorrow that a life of violence had ended in violence. The seemingly endless cycle wearied him.

Carlisle and I had discussed John many times after Rosalie's human death. We were certain that he was an incubus. What we didn't really know was his affect on the human males around him. It seemed strange and out of character for Royce, so concerned with playing the part that had been handed him at birth, to destroy the key to his future. A marriage to the most beautiful woman in town was incredibly important to him. I knew, having been in his presence before, that this was constantly on his mind before a match with Rosalie was even proposed. He'd thought of it often. So why destroy her on a darkened street?

That question weighed heavily on me. I did not want to destroy men whose souls were salvageable. Men who might well never have harmed Rosalie if not for John.

Rosalie would kill them with or without me. She was trying desperately to do it right, to do it safely so that we would not risk exposure, at least more than would be necessary. People would begin to wonder when these men turned up dead, no matter how we attempted to disguise it. Rumors would swirl. In a year, one way or another, we would no longer be living in Rochester. And this would make Esme unhappy. She'd worked hard to improve Rochester, and the thought of her turning her back on all she'd done would be hurtful for her, I knew. But she'd already begun thinking about it. I'd aged out of my life here, and Rosalie would never be able to set foot in the city limits again. She was a risk, no matter how well-behaved she might learn to be.

I'd have to help her. And in a year, we'd be living in the cabin in the Tennessee mountains that Esme had picked out years before. There was no help for it.

So, with regrets, I began helping Rosalie with her plans. I set her to work marking residences, places of business, and social clubs on the map. Once I realized where I was headed and had reviewed the faces of the men once more in Rose's thoughts, I headed down to town. Rosalie would have to stay behind.

"Rose, I'm going to go down and begin some research. You must stay here. I'm sorry for that, truly I am, but you must stay here. Is there anything that I can bring you?" I wanted to make it up to her. I knew how difficult it would be for her to let me take the lead in the preparation.

Rose shook her head, but I saw a brief glimmer of a shop or two. Rose missed shopping. She really only had three or four dresses that Esme had gotten for her. We were all so busy acclimating ourselves to the routine of keeping Rose fed and simply getting used to a fourth presence in the house that none of us had really thought of it. Rose's closets at home were stuffed full. I'd been there, after all, when I retrieved her wedding dress. I resolved to purchase her another week's worth of clothes on my way back home.

I felt I had a lot to make up for. My behavior had been abominable, and I was sorry. Rose would certainly never be the companion for me that Esme fantasized about, but she could perhaps become a sister.

"I'm going now, Rose, and I'll be back well before nightfall. Be sure you hunt in another hour or so. I trust you to be here on your own."

Irritation flashed brightly in Rose's mind. I honestly didn't mean to patronize, but sometimes Rose's impulses were so childlike that I couldn't help myself. And she was young. In so many ways.

"I'm sorry. You know what I mean. I meant it as a compliment." And a reminder, I added silently.

"I know. Thank you," Rose replied, stiffly.

It was overcast outside, naturally, and very pleasant, not raining. Birds sang, and I could sense all the animals in the forest around me. I was hunting so often now that they held no temptation for me whatsoever, and I left them to peacefully pursue their lives, hunting, nesting, mating. I had bigger prey.

The run down to the town took very little time. I loved running, the speed, the cleansing breeze in my hair and on my face. I felt refreshed when I finally reached the limits of Rochester and emerged onto the road. I walked much more slowly, but still briskly, with a sense of purpose, toward the area of town where the men all lived. It was beautiful, full of old trees and large homes.

I paused outside of the first home, that of Charles Smythe. I leaned against a tree, pretending to enjoy the feel of the breeze on my face, but listening intently to the sounds of life inside.

There were three people there. A young male voice, the timid steps of a servant, and a voice that probably belonged to Charles's mother. I glanced at my pocketwatch. It was just after 9:00 in the morning. The father was out, but Charles was not alone. I listened for a while, and finally began to overhear a conversation between Charles and his mother.

"I'm going out, Mother."

"Are you going to visit poor Royce? He's having such a hard time getting over the death of that beautiful Hale girl. So sad. I spoke to his mother just yesterday. He's barely eating and won't leave the house, just sits by the window all day long. Hasn't been to work since she died."

"I don't know, Mother. I might stop by."

His thoughts indicated that he wouldn't. He felt it prudent to stay away from those he was with when he helped to kill Rosalie. He was heading instead to the club. His mind was filled with images of a glass, ice tinkling, the brown glimmer of bourbon. I would pay it a visit later.

I walked down the street to the next house. The Jeffries house. There were no signs of life immediately. I eventually heard a young female voice singing while she did laundry. A servant here, too. No other signs of habitation.

Two more blocks over lived the Hallowells. Here there was more life. The Hallowells were a large family, and Richard Hallowell was the oldest of seven. The youngest child was not yet in school. Richard was nineteen, and his youngest sister was five. I could hear her playing, her child's voice lifted in song, a song that made no sense to anyone but her. Her thoughts turned often to each person in her family, including her eldest brother. She felt he didn't like her anymore. He hadn't played with her in a week. He was staying in his room a lot, and he smelled funny most of the time. She remembered clearly a scent she didn't recognize, but I did. The sweet smell of alcohol. He'd been drinking a lot. Her thoughts didn't linger on him, though. The gap in their ages was such that she spent more time with the brother and sister who were closer to her age. Their faces swam to the surface of her thoughts, and she was filled with joy when she thought of them. They were at school.

I felt remorse already. Losing her brother would be difficult for this child, and would probably be the first time that death's shadow entered her small, happy cocoon. All I could offer her to ease the burden would be a death for her brother that occurred far away from this home. I'd keep Rose away from his face, so that his brothers and sisters could look on it one last time. That was the best I could offer.

The next two homes were smaller and were completely empty. The Jacksons and the Stephenses weren't as wealthy as the other families. Mrs. Jackson had died several years ago, and Mrs. Stephens was out frequently as she volunteered at the hospital. I knew these families better than the others. Billy Jeffries, Robert Stephens, and Ted Stephens all worked at the bank with Royce and his father. I was not sure where I'd find them between work and home. That would be what I'd need to find out.

I walked slowly around the block, seeing what I could of the backyards of the five houses. They were all fenced. Nothing that could keep Rose and me out, but it might look suspicious if we came up to the house from the back and we were spotted. Most of the homes in the neighborhood were occupied by at least one person. It would be unlikely that we'd be able to get to the men at this time of day.

I heard Smythe leave his house, and followed him at a distance to the club. He walked briskly. His thoughts were muddled, but I saw Rosalie's face pop up quite often. He was excited when he thought of her, and that knowledge made a growl rise up in my chest. I could have taken him then and there on that street, but I held myself back. He entered the club, which still sported a small window in the door, where until very recently, a password had been spoken before entry. I'm sure Smythe celebrated quite well in February. He had probably been drunk ever since.

I stayed outside and listened. There was very little noise to indicate that there were many people inside. I could hear some soft conversation…drink orders being exchanged. There were, at most, five patrons inside, a waitress, and a bartender. Smythe's thoughts were truly repugnant, alternating between Rosalie's bleeding form on the street and the face of the pretty young waitress inside. Six months ago, I would have killed him as soon as I got the chance. But I had to give Rosalie her chance. I thought they both deserved that.

I decided to go in for a while, to observe Smythe in his natural habitat. I ordered a beer for camouflage, and settled in table in the corner, facing the bar where Smythe sat. The more he drank, the more the two trains of thought merged, until it was the pretty young waitress pinned underneath his weight. She was bleeding and crying, and I read his excitement at that image.

I forced myself to remain calm, mimed a sip at my beer. The pretty young waitress came over to my table. She was remarkably like Rosalie, blonde, pretty waves of hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were hazel instead of Rosalie's blue, and her lips curled in a pleasant smile. "Can I get you anything else?" She glanced at my beer, realized that it was still full. "Is anything wrong with your drink?"

"No, it's fine. I'm more of a sipper," I said, smiling at her. I wanted to warn her, but couldn't think of a way that I could without seeming suspicious.

The waitress went back behind the bar. After a few moments, she refilled Smythe's drink, then turned to the bartender. "I think I'll take a quick break, Sam."

"'Kay," Sam replied. He was busy wiping the bar at the far end, away from Smythe. I could see the thoughts that Smythe had, his urge to follow the girl out. He glanced around, noting the occupied bartender. His eyes swiveled toward me, and I met his stare. Humans were frequently aware that I was a danger, but he didn't seem to react to the warning in my glare. His thoughts were already with the waitress in the alley. In his mind, she was already his. He got up slowly and went toward the back of the barroom, as if he was going to the bathroom, but instead, he slipped out the back door. I was through it before the door could swing shut.

The waitress was smoking a cigarette, strolling down the alley with her back toward us. Smythe's nauseous plans played in his thoughts, becoming more and more a plan rather than a fantasy. Before he could get to her, I seized the first thing I could find, an empty whiskey bottle, and hit him sharply over the head. Blood gushed immediately from a gash on his scalp. The smell was intoxicating, but mixed with my nausea at his thoughts. They revealed his desire to participate in Rose's death all over again, but this time with himself in control, and a small change in casting. It didn't matter to him who it was. It was the fear that he craved.

The waitress turned toward me, eyes wide at the sight of Smythe crumpled at my feet. I cursed to myself. "He'll be fine. Stay away from this man." She looked at me with the same fear that Smythe had imagined on her face. "Please." I held out a hand to her that I knew she would not take even if she were close enough. "Please. Stay away from this man."

She nodded quickly, and shrank further down the alley. I knew nothing was there, and I read her trust of me in her thoughts. There was a great deal of benefit to being a vampire. When I wanted them to trust me, humans usually did. She would not tell anyone that she saw me there.

I turned toward Smythe. He was unconscious, but breathing. I looked around and saw a glass sitting near the door. I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it as clean as I could. Another bottle of gin held a few drops of the liquor. I shook them into the glass, sanitizing it as best I could. I pulled up Smythe's head by the hair. Blood ran freely down his face. Scalp wounds were always so messy. At least Carlisle can have a blood sample, I thought, as some drops of Smythe's blood trickled into the glass. There would be no way to cap it, so I tucked it into my pocket. It made a huge bulge, but it sat relatively still. The cold of my body would keep it fresh until I got it back to the house.

I kicked Smythe over and stared into his face. He looked like any other human, but his thoughts were evil. Killing him would definitely be the right thing to do. But I had to be patient and wait. I had to give Rose her chance. I turned and briskly strode away from Smythe. Clearly, he was our priority. And anything could happen in the alley behind the club. No one would ever hear him. Rosalie was very fast.

I walked as quickly as possible to the city limits. I tried to avoid detection and to keep from spilling Carlisle's sample. I wasn't sure how I would explain to him how I got it. Perhaps I would leave the part out where I was casing Rosalie's killers. Perhaps I just came across him in the alley, about to attack the girl. Perhaps I recognized him as I foiled the attack. Without killing him, of course. I hated lying to Carlisle, but I knew that the plans that Rosalie and I were working on were not quite his idea of sibling bonding.

I was nearly to the edge of the woods when I remembered my promise to myself to bring back clothes for Rosalie. I really wanted to follow through, but I wasn't sure what to do with the blood in my pocket. I walked quickly into the edge of the forest to where a small stream trickled ice-cold through the trees. I pushed the bottom of the glass into the mud at the edge of the water. The cold water moving past would keep the sample cold. I could do little about the possibility of contamination, so I tried to simply convince myself that any sample would be better than no sample.

I straightened my clothes, checking my shirt for any droplets of blood, but I had kept myself relatively clean. I walked quickly to the downtown shop that I knew Esme frequented. Rosalie was a little larger than our mother, so I decided to simply go up a size from what Esme normally bought. Hopefully good manners would keep the shopkeeper from commenting on it. I picked five dresses, a pair of men's slacks that I thought would be suitable for hunting, and several blouses and skirts. I paid for them quickly with cash. The shopkeeper didn't question my actions, even in thought.

I made my way with my packages to the edge of the woods where I'd left the blood sample. I scooped it up, wiping the mud off the bottom on my jacket, then nestling it in my pocket again. I knew that I'd have to walk back, but I'd still be back by nightfall, like I'd promised Rosalie.

I took my time, thinking about what I'd learned. I was sure that Charles Smythe would be the easiest man to get. We'd start there. I needed to do further research to determine when would be the best time to get to the other men, particularly the three who worked at the bank. Perhaps after we killed Smythe, I could do further research. Smythe would be easiest to kill in the morning. Fewer people would be in the club, and he would likely not be discovered until the crowds began arriving after 6:00. I'd have time to learn the others' schedules. I was sure that Smythe was a time bomb, one best taken care of early and quickly, before he hurt someone else.

I could hear Rosalie before I saw her. She was in the woods, perhaps hunting, perhaps waiting for me. Suddenly, she was at my side. "How did it go?" she asked, impatient for news.

"Are Carlisle and Esme home?"

She nodded. "Esme is. Carlisle will be home later. He had to go by the hospital."

"We will have to talk about it after they leave in the morning. Besides, I have surprises." I indicated the boxes in my arms.

"For me?" she asked, frowning.

"More peace offerings. I know it's hard on you, not being able to go down to Rochester, so I picked you up a few things."

"That was…very kind." She sounded so unsure, and her thoughts were shrouded, hard to read. I supposed it would take a while for her to trust kindness from me.

"Let's get inside. We'll get up the hill faster if you take half of these."

She took the boxes from my arms without question. I could tuck the remaining ones under my arm, so we ran quickly up the hill.

Esme was bent over some papers at her work table. I glanced anxiously at Rosalie. "I put that away," she said softly, knowing I was wondering about the map.

"Thank you," I said. Esme, of course, heard the exchange, but was politely pretending that she didn't. We were getting along, and Esme was not about to rock the boat.

"Well, what have you been up to, Edward?" Esme said, surprised at the load of packages that Rosalie and I were carrying.

"I was in town, and I thought that Rosalie might like having some new clothes. She really doesn't have much. She's accustomed to closets full to the brim, aren't you?" I winked at her. Her eyebrows contracted over her nose. She really didn't know what to do when I was being nice.

Esme looked on the point of tears. Images were flooding her mind…some of Rosalie and I behaving very much like a close brother and sister, others of us getting married, and others…more graphic. It was really quite amusing, albeit nauseating. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Esme," I said softly. Rosalie looked sharply my way.

"Esme's glad to see that we both have all our limbs," I said.

Rosalie laughed. At least, I think it was a laugh. It was a single bark, and she immediately squelched it behind a hand. Esme and I both laughed long at that, and Rosalie, for once, didn't seem to mind.

"Why don't you ladies go and open some packages? Rose, there are some men's pants in there, but those are for you, too. I thought they'd be functional for hunting and the like."

"That was…thoughtful," she replied. I smiled. It was clearly very difficult for Rosalie to come up with positive adjectives to describe my behavior. Her thoughts were unclear and were best summed up with a simple question mark. She had no idea why I was being nice to her.

I didn't really, either, except that I'd accepted that she was going to be a part of our lives for a very long time. There was no point in fighting it. It would be best if we, somehow, learned to behave well with one another. Perhaps one day, we might even really care about one another.

As Esme and Rosalie left the room, I made my way to the refrigerator in the unused kitchen. It held only medical supplies, and I added the cup of blood to the stockpile of vaccines and other medicines. We didn't use them, but Carlisle liked to have his supplies nearby in case of an emergency. I was sure that Carlisle would be eager to begin his analysis of the blood's proteins and to see if there were any pathogens that he could identify. Hematology and histology were sciences in their relative infancies in the 1930s, but Carlisle kept on the cutting edge of all advances. He would do the best he could, and I was certain he'd be so excited about the sample that he wouldn't question too much where it came from.

At least, I hoped.

**RPOV**

I was stunned when I saw Edward return. His arms were full of boxes from the finest clothing store in town. I couldn't think what he might have purchased. When he said they were all for me, I just couldn't believe it. He did something for me.

Esme was brimming over with pride and joy. I kept wondering what Edward wanted. If he wanted me to drop my plans, he was going to be disappointed. I couldn't think about anything but what Edward had found out on his trip into town. It would be a very long night.

I felt Esme's hand on my arm, and she pulled me into my bedroom. We opened all of the packages, pulling out dress after dress, five in all, a pair of men's pants, and four sets of blouses and skirts. To my surprise, I liked them all. Esme insisted that I try them on. With a few exceptions, each one fit me perfectly well, or so I thought. Esme pointed out a hem that needed adjustment here and a waistline that needed a tuck there. "But I can do all of that for you! Let me go get my sewing basket."

I spent the night thinking, obsessing really, about what Edward could possibly have done all day. Was his unexpected kindness masking something? Was he going to try to get out of our plan? I didn't bother hiding my thoughts. In fact, I made sure that they were clear and loud so that he'd know what I was thinking all night long.

One after the other, Esme made tiny adjustments to each of the garments, stopping only when Carlisle came home, and then only for a simple kiss. She returned to me quickly. Her fingers deftly moved over the fabric, pinching in here, folding up, pinning, pulling needle through fabric. They were mesmerizing, but didn't really distract me from my worries. Her hands and steady stream of conversation just soothed me enough that the wait was just barely tolerable.

Carlisle came in periodically to admire Esme's work and my new wardrobe. He and Edward spent most of the night in conversation. I caught only snippets here and there. They were discussing some sort of medical advance having to do with blood proteins and something called a Wasserman reaction. At least, that's what it sounded like. I couldn't follow the conversation, and they were taking great pains to keep it barely audible. I heard Carlisle open the refrigerator at one point, and then the conversation got a little louder.

"How did you get this?" Carlisle sounded angry.

"I came across one of the men. It was entirely accidental. He was going to attack a girl, and I hit him with a bottle to stop him. He was bleeding, so I took the opportunity. Surely you don't protest?" Edward sounded quite calm, conciliatory. I was dying to know what had happened.

The tone of Carlisle's voice immediately changed, became more excited, and drifted once more into terms that I did not understand.

Finally, Esme was finished, satisfied with the seemingly unneeded alterations to the clothing. She sighed. "It's so nice to have another woman in the house." She pecked me on the cheek. "You look quite beautiful. I'm going to spend a little time with Carlisle before he has to go to work."

The murmur of conversation from the other room immediately ceased as Esme came into the room. Carlisle drifted away to the other side of the house. He and Esme liked to have a little bit of time alone each evening. I thought it was sweet, and it filled me with bitterness.

I wandered into the study, where Edward was bent over a medical text. "You are quite persistent, aren't you?" he asked, without looking up. "I just can't tell you about my trip into town until Carlisle and Esme leave. I'm not trying to get out of anything." He looked up at me then. "I just thought you'd like the clothes. I didn't like having to leave you behind today. It was just necessary."

I didn't know what to think. It was such a turnaround from his behavior on the hillside overlooking my funeral.

"You know, it's a lot easier to be nice to someone when they aren't holding your dismembered arm." He smiled at me. "I just decided that you had some very valid points about me. And…we are family now. Do we really want to spend eternity at each others' throats?"

I realized that the soft murmur of voices from across the house had stopped. Carlisle and Esme were listening, probably intently. Edward nodded, and chuckled softly. "Why don't you have a seat? There's probably lots you haven't read yet. I was just doing a little bit of research for Carlisle."

I shuffled slowly around the room, looking through the bookshelves that lined the walls. Nothing was going to hold my attention. Finally, I came across _The Art of War_. At the time, I hadn't heard of it, but it sounded applicable to my situation, and I settled into the sofa to read until Carlisle left for the day. I found myself oddly drawn into it, and thought about how what I was reading might be applied to what I needed to do. I didn't understand a lot of it, but I thought that Edward would probably talk to me about it if I wanted him to. I just still wasn't sure how to approach him.

"You could just ask me any questions you have. Approach isn't really an issue with me, you know." He didn't look up from what he was reading.

"That's okay. I just don't understand all of it."

"I'm sure some parts will be useful to you. I've read it often, and there are parts that speak to me more than others. And some parts that let me know that I'm not really a warrior." He closed his eyes and said: "_So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong and strike at what is weak._ I have always had problems with that. And given that there are very few who are weaker than I, I'm not much of a fighter." He smiled. "There are exceptions, of course." His voice hardened a little. I wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about, so I went back to reading the passage that appealed to me most:

_All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him._

I would appear unable to these men. They would think that they could crush me the way that they did on the street. But it was my turn. The thought made me unreasonably happy.

We spent the rest of the evening not talking, noses buried in our books. Carlisle and Esme came in once the sun came up, and eventually left, Carlisle to the hospital, and Esme down to City Hall.

There were no more excuses.

Edward snapped shut the text he'd been reading. "We have our first target. Charles Smythe."

"What happened down there? I heard you and Carlisle…"

"I was in the club when Smythe became enamored of a waitress. He went to attack her, and I hit him over the head with a bottle." I had the strong feeling that Edward was leaving something out.

"Did anyone see you?"

"The waitress, but I don't think that she'll say anything." He waved a hand dismissively. "She was frightened, but she understood I was trying to help her, I think. The club is largely deserted during the day, so I think we'll be able to take Smythe just outside, in the alley. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow. I sighed happily, glad that finally some action would be taken.

"Smythe is a danger. We would do the town a service to get rid of him."

I nodded. I'd thought of so many ways to kill each man.

"You shouldn't shed their blood. You don't want to tempt yourself. You want to avoid taking in their blood at all costs. So don't spill any."

I nodded. Edward continued, "There are simple ways to kill a man. You can crush his chest, his skull, his throat. You can strangle him. Those should all please you," he added dryly. I nodded eagerly.

"We will attack in the morning, after Esme and Carlisle leave. Smythe will be at the club, in all likelihood. We will lure him into the alley, and you may dispose of him in any way you wish. Any _bloodless_ way you wish. This kill will need to be fast. There will be few people around, but we need to ensure that the people in the club do not hear. You'll need to cut off his supply of air to ensure that he can't scream. Then do him in as you wish. No blood."

I nodded. Images flooded my brain, and I was so excited, I trembled from head to toe.

"You need to take today to focus. Get rid of this nervous energy. Hunt. Tomorrow, you will follow my lead on all points. Do we understand one another?"

I nodded again. I couldn't speak yet. I was too excited.

Tomorrow, Charles Smythe would die.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks to all who read this story. I love Rosalie, really I do. She's so misunderstood.

I ran through the woods, missing my human body's ability to tire. I missed the way my body would grow heavy, slowly shutting down my thoughts, making it possible for me to rest, to sleep, to escape. My thoughts just spiraled on forever now, one continuous loop of pain. I didn't know if murdering Smythe would help any of that. I just knew that I couldn't bear to exist in a world where Smythe still drew breath.

So I fed. I was determined to follow Edward's instructions to the letter. He wanted me to feed, so I fed. Somewhere in the woods nearby was Esme, who had joined me. She was still nervous about my hunting alone, but she kept her distance, just wanting to be close enough to intervene should something go wrong. For instance, if I were to come across a human.

Smythe's murder would be the first time I'd actually been within a mile of a living, breathing human. But the idea of feeding on him was repellant, worse than drinking mud or sewage. Or alcohol, the smell that was on the breath of my attackers. I couldn't bear the thought of ever having any part of Smythe within me ever again. Never. Again. No one would ever suffer at his hands again.

After I'd consumed far more blood than I ever had before, Esme and I ran back to the house. I could feel all the blood sloshing around within me. I was nearly uncomfortably full. But Edward said to feed, so I fed.

We came back to the house just before dawn. Edward was in his favorite chair near the fire, reading a book. He looked up at me, his face impassive as he looked me over. "Nice hunt, Esme?" he asked our mother.

"Yes, it was quite nice. Rosalie is quite something to see at the hunt. She's so quick and graceful." She beamed my way, always the proud mother.

She could never know what we were going to do.

She and Carlisle began readying themselves for their day. I sat again on the sofa, reading more of _The Art of War_, readying my mind the way I'd readied my body. Edward seemed to approve, so I simply rested, waiting for his next instructions. I was sure he was reading my thoughts—most of which were "what next?"—because a smile played around his lips. He did not speak, would not until Carlisle and Esme left the house for the day. We would not risk them knowing what we were going to do.

Finally Esme came into the room, beautiful as always in her conservative work attire. Carlisle was close behind her. "Any plans today?" she asked us.

"Perhaps a walk in the woods again. Other than that, probably just reading. There's so much I haven't read here." I smiled at her. I could almost feel the waves of approval coming from Edward. I was being causal enough, hiding the quivering excitement that threatened to overtake me at any moment.

"That sounds lovely. I will be back early today, probably just after noon or so." Esme smiled brightly at us and Carlisle bid us farewell, then they were gone.

Edward was not happy that Esme would be back so quickly. He was frowning as I turned to look at him. "Is Esme coming back early a problem?"

"Possibly," he said. "We will need to make sure that you have a change of clothes nearby just in case. Can you get one? I know where we can leave them on the way into town."

"Of course. Just a moment." I rushed out of the room and was back mere seconds later with a clean skirt and blouse. "Should I bring anything else?"

"No." Edward sat perfectly still for a moment. It was still a little strange to me to watch. He seemed to turn to marble in front of me. He finally stirred. "No time like the present, I suppose."

We left the house quietly, although we knew that Carlisle and Esme were halfway to town by now. We ran swiftly through the woods to a clearing. Edward pointed to a large, flat rock. "You can leave your clothes here. I use this path often. I will not forget where they are."

I nodded. I would argue with nothing that he said today. I placed the clothes on the rock and looked at him, awaiting further instruction.

"We are going to find him at the club. You will lure him out into the alley. I have just the thing for you to wear." He pulled a hat from inside his jacket. It was a black hat of Esme's. It was the sort that was usually worn further down on the forehead, and it had a small veil of netting that would cover my strange eyes, shielding them somewhat from view. I placed it carefully on my head, and rearranged the waves of blonde hair around my shoulders.

"How do I look?" I asked him nervously.

"He will not be able to resist. You are far lovelier than the barmaid who works there."

"What do I need to do to lure him into the alley?" I asked.

"You are simply going to go in with me and sit at a table. I don't know if Smythe will recognize me or not." He pulled another hat from inside his coat and placed it on his head, hiding his unruly shock of bronze hair. "I doubt he will approach me, even if he does. You and I will appear to argue, then you will storm out through the back door. He will follow. He will not be able to help himself. I am sure of this. I will let you know when you have captured his fancy enough for our plan to work."

I nodded.

"You will have enough to do to simply appear human. When I shift position, you shift position. Breathe, but only through your mouth. Do not breathe through your nose. You will be tempted. The smells will be overwhelming, but there will be three, maybe four humans at the most in the club at this time of day. I will not let you feed on anyone there, Rosalie. Do not attempt to do so, or I will be forced to hurt you, and we will not continue on our path. Yield to temptation, and Royce will live a long happy life."

I could feel my lips curl backward. I hissed.

"Exactly." He smiled, hearing all the violent thoughts that were running through my head. "Now, are you ready to go?"

I nodded.

"Then let's go." He offered me his arm, which I took gladly. We made our way, regally but frustratingly slowly, down to town. Every so often, he would quietly say, "Easy, Rose." My thoughts were a tangled mass of anger and anticipation and…as the first wave of human scent washed over me...thirst. I tried to beat down the flames rising in my throat with thoughts of my hunt, with the reality that the vast amount of blood I had consumed still filled my stomach to absolute capacity. But the odor of the blood was too great…like the best food I could remember from my human life, plus a deep perfume of flowers and musk and something unidentifiable. It was the best smell I'd smelled in my whole life, quite unlike the rusty iron smell that humans identify as blood.

Edward paused, gripping my arm tightly. "Rose? Rose?" I didn't respond, couldn't respond. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to feed. I felt like I was burning at the stake, hot and thirsty and roasting slowly from within. "Rosalie!" Edward's fingers were painful on my arm, and I turned, working to focus on him with every fiber of my being. His amber eyes had darkened slightly, and I knew he felt the thirst as well. I wanted to reach down my own throat and claw at it from the inside, rip out the parts that hurt me so badly. "Breathe through your mouth when you feel you need to. You can hold your breath indefinitely. Now is the time to practice. Breathing is simply habit left over from your human life. You do not need it."

He did not let go of my arm. He waited for my chest to grow still. "Good." He peered into my eyes. "Your eyes are black. Maybe that's for the best…much less startling than the red. That's positive." He smiled uneasily, probably as an attempt to calm me. It worked. "I will not let go of you. If you try to attack, I will stop you, and we will both be hurt. If you try to attack, we will make a scene that no human will ever forget, and the Cullens will all leave town, and they will all live. You don't want that, do you? You know that they'll hurt others." I nodded, lips pressed tightly together. My mouth was completely filled with venom. "Let me know when you're ready to proceed."

It felt like an eternity standing there on the sidewalk, staring into Edward's eyes as he read every thought, every desire I was having. He watched the entire struggle. My mind played my fantasies as clearly as the movies I'd seen in the Cinema. I could remember seeing _Dracula _a couple of years ago. From what I knew now, I realized that Bela Lugosi was a ridiculous parody of the real thing. My mind played images just as clearly, though, but now Bela was mixed in among them. Edward smiled. It seemed to amuse him. "I saw that, too. Stupid picture, wasn't it? Did you see _Frankenstein_?" I nodded. "It was better, I thought." I nodded again.

Thinking of the moving pictures I'd seen sitting in the Cinema, or what we all called the "flea pit," was calming. I began to list them in my head. There were many. I'd been quite a film buff, especially after talking pictures had been developed, and I'd had a good deal of money and time, so I'd seen anything that tickled my fancy. _The Murders at the Rue Morgue_, _Nosferatu_, _The Phantom of the Opera_. I'd really liked the scary movies. I'd dress in my finest and head down. I was a little unusual because I'd go without my parents sometimes. Sometimes I'd go alone. I had liked watching the stories, seeing the beautiful people on the screen, and sometimes I'd fantasized I was one of them. I was pretty enough, prettier than Greta Garbo in _Grand Hotel_, prettier than Fay Wray in _King Kong_.

"Once you get used to this smell, you can go to the movies again. That's one thing you don't have to give up." Edward looked at me again, and the minute he'd said the word "smell," the flames, which had eased just a bit, began to rise again. He spoke quickly. "You wanted to be an actress, didn't you? Sometimes? Well, this is your greatest role. You get to be the heroine and the movie monster, all at once. Imagine yourself in the theater. Remember the smells…the snacks…that dusty smell of the curtains…how the light flickered when the movie started…the sound of the Wurlitzer playing. Thing about all of those things. Breathe through your mouth." He took a step forward, still gripping my arm quite tightly.

Slowly, very slowly, while Edward monitored my thoughts and filled my head with memories of my favorite moving pictures, we made our way down the street. It was an odd time, children already at school, men already at work, so there weren't many people on the street. We didn't pass anyone, which was good, because my resolve wasn't quite set yet.

Eventually, we made it to the door of the club. I could smell humans inside. I steeled myself and set my lips in a firm line. I was determined to do this.

"You can do this, Rosalie. If I didn't believe in you, we wouldn't be here right now." Edward's free hand touched my face, almost tenderly. "We're going to go in there, we're going to sit at a table, we're going to talk about our favorite pictures some more. You're going to do exactly what we planned. When I tell you, you will storm out the back door without looking at any of the humans, and you're going to wait for Smythe in the alley. That is the only time that you will be without me, and it will not last long. You can do it." I nodded. He smiled, able to read the firm determination in my mind. The minute we'd gotten here, and I recognized Smythe's foul smell inside, there was no turning back for me. I would do whatever it took to see him dead. "You're a better vampire than Bela Lugosi and Max Schreck combined." He smiled. "Let's go."

We went inside. It was dim. The smell of human hit me like a brick wall, and I swayed slightly at the force of it and the desire that rose within me. Edward's hand gripped me even tighter, and he steered us to the back table, calling out to the barman over his shoulder, "We'll have two ales, please."

We were as far away from the humans as we could get, but I found myself nearly crazed with desire. Edward remained calm. He still had faith that my own desire to kill Smythe would win out. "He's at the bar. He's already noticed you. He doesn't recognize you." My eyes, wide with desire, thirst, and rage, flicked over to where he was sitting. He looked at me from the corner of my eyes. I began to growl. Edward coughed loudly. "You can't do that, Rose. Calm yourself." Suddenly he asked, "Do you like musicals? I saw _42__nd__ Street_ last week. I think they're silly. I mean, I like the music, but all that dancing?" A tiny portion of my brain wanted to argue with him—I loved the dancing—but only a tiny part.

"What about Chaplain? Do you like Chaplain? You're not really a comedy kind of girl, are you? You like the scary stuff? That's kind of funny, really…" Edward continued talking about films. It was beginning to ease my mind a little. Every time he mentioned a different film, especially one I hadn't seen, it helped to distract me.

"The waitress is coming. Clasp your hands together. Don't speak. Don't look at her. Look away."

I shifted my eyes to look at an empty table beside us. I could smell her coming, feel the inviting heat of her body roll over me. My hands clasped one another so tightly I thought they would shatter.

"Thank you, miss. We won't be needing anything else." Edward's decisive tone must have gotten rid of her. The smell and heat receded a bit, enough for me to relax a fraction. Edward still had a grip on my arm. I wondered fleetingly if I'd have permanent dents from the force of his grip. "I think your arm will be just as perfect as it was yesterday," Edward commented, clearly amused at my thought.

The ale in front of me smelled vile. I watched Edward as he lifted his to his lips and actually took a tiny sip. He laughed at the look on my face. "You can ingest human food. That will come back up later, unfortunately. But it's a good cover." I reached out for the glass, and Edward quickly added, "You don't have to." My hand jerked back as if it were on a hot stove. He smiled and laughed quietly.

"You have an admirer," he said softly. "Any minute now, we will pretend to argue. Will you be okay?"

I weighed my desires carefully in my mind. The desire to kill Smythe outweighed my desire to kill all the humans in the bar, but not by much.

"You will be fine," Edward finally concluded. "Smythe has thought of nothing but you for at least ten minutes now," he said with some satisfaction. "He will definitely follow when you get up. Are you ready? You will need to speak."

My eyes grew wider. My mouth was dripping with venom, and I wasn't at all sure that I could. Edward nodded. "Pick up your drink, pretend to drink, and spit out what you can into the glass."

I did as he said. The beverage smelled loathsome, and I could see strands of the slightly thicker venom swirling around in it. It was disgusting. But the effect was good. I'd be able to speak.

Edward suddenly touched my shoulder, rubbing it suggestively while he winked a slow wink at me. It took me a second to realize that this was what I was supposed to react to. I picked up the drink and threw part of it into his face, screeching, "You disgust me!"

Edward cursed softly under his breath and wiped his eyes. I got up, shouted, "I'm leaving," and made my way to the back door. It took every ounce of strength I had to force my feet past the occupants of the bar. I kept my eyes on the back door and tried to think of the task at hand.

Finally, I was out the back door, leaning against the wall. Soon, I heard the door softly open and close. Smythe. His smell was both appealing and revolting in equal measure. The smell of alcohol on his foul breath and his body odor combined to muddy the smell of his blood, which I'm sure would have been delicious in spite of its disgusting package.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" I looked at him through narrowed eyes. I could hear Edward coming around the building, but Smythe couldn't.

"Was your date mean to you, honey? You didn't like him touching you? I bet you'd like it if I touched you…"

The rage that shot up through my chest drove away all thoughts of thirst. I swallowed to clear my mouth of venom. I smiled, a slow, cold, vicious smile, and raised the veil on my hat. "Well, hello, Charles. Remember me?"

His face drained of color as he took in my expression, my frightening eyes that were mostly black but still had a ring of bright crimson, and my face. My still-familiar face. "You can't be…"

"I can't be what, Charles?" The fear coming off of him was nearly palpable.

"You were dead," he sputtered.

"Ah, see, Charlie, when you leave someone for dead, you should really make sure they are, in fact, dead."

He was shaking violently. I loved his fear, reveled in it. I began to circle him. He kept an eye on me, but his feet were rooted to the spot. Edward watched from the end of the alley, both making sure there were no witnesses and making sure that I didn't spill any of Smythe's blood. His presence gave me strength.

"I wasn't quite dead, you see." I ran a cold finger down his arm, and he shuddered. I noticed the pulse of blood in his elbow and neck. It raised some thirst, but it was tolerable. "You hurt me, to be sure," I said, and I grasped his lower arm, and with an easy jerk, snapped the bone. It echoed with a crack in the alley. He cried out. "Tsk, tsk…I think you should be quiet when a lady is speaking." I reached out and struck him in the front of the throat. He spluttered, and his scream faded to a hoarse whisper. I'd probably crushed his larynx.

"His airway will close off soon," Edward said calmly. "Anything you need to say, say now."

I swept my foot around, knocking his feet out from under him. He fell heavily onto his back. I knelt beside him, leaning hard on his chest, still allowing him to breathe. "You will never do this to anyone again. But you should feel honored. You are the first man I ever killed." I smiled soothingly.

"W-w-what are you?" Charles Smythe asked, whispering softly.

"I am what you made me," I said, smiling brightly. Then I leaned into his chest, harder and harder, until his lungs could no longer fill and his ribs began to shatter. I looked into his eyes as they bulged wildly, then reddened as the tiny little vessels in his eyes ruptured, then glazed as he died.

Edward approached cautiously. He reached down and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"You did well, Rosalie, but we are not done. We mustn't be seen leaving the alley, and you mustn't attack anyone as we leave town."

I nodded, but I was still savoring the moment. I stood, looking down at Smythe's body. I couldn't sort out how I felt…relieved and glad in small measures, but revolted and angry in far greater ones. I'd hoped for pure relief when he was dead, but there were so many other emotions mixed in that the relief was nearly eclipsed.

I felt Edward's hand on mine, gentler than his hand had been all day. "Rosalie. We mustn't be found here. We have to go."

I nodded, and let him lead me away. He held my hand in his, gently, as if he knew that I wasn't a threat any more. We made our way, quiet and unseen, out of the alley and turned toward home. We were silent…thought upon thought clamoring for my attention and for Edward's.

We were nearly to the woods when Edward finally spoke. "Killing someone is never as easy as you think it's going to be. It's not going to be a magic bullet for you. Your feelings aren't going to be resolved by this one act. I don't know what it will take for you." I looked at him. He still held my hand tenderly. "Esme seems to think that it will be love that will heal you."

I looked down, embarrassed, and unsure what he was trying to say. I noticed that my clothes were filthy, covered with filth from the alley. They also smelled a little like Charles Smythe. My stockings were torn.

Edward followed my train of thought. "We left clothes for you in the edge of the woods. You can change before we go back to the house."

We walked slowly to the edge of the forest. "I'll give you some privacy," Edward said quietly. He made his way to the edge of the water and stood there, perfectly still, perfectly silent.

I slowly took off all my clothes. I stood there, not sure of what I wanted to do with them. I looked at Edward, where he stood looking down at the water. I walked up to him and stood behind him, naked. I felt so many things for him at that moment, but the primary thing was gratitude. "You don't owe me anything, Rosalie," he said quietly, without turning.

"I know." I just wanted…I wasn't even sure what I wanted.

Slowly, Edward turned. He looked at me, taking in every inch of my body. "You are beautiful, Rosalie. As a man, my body is attracted to you. Of course it is. Look at you." He stepped closer to me, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. "But this isn't what our relationship is about. You are going to be my sister. I know that. And I'm…" He looked uncomfortable, but I didn't think that it had anything to do with my body. I waited for him to finish his thought.

"I was young when I turned. Only 17. Granted, twenty years ago, that wasn't that young, but there were desires that I hadn't really had yet. I don't know that I can have them…that I can form the strength of attraction that it would take for physical love. I haven't felt the pull yet. And as you know, our emotional state and maturity when we turn vampire…let's just say it's difficult for that to change."

I didn't know what he meant, just that he wasn't going to take what I was offering. My eyes began to sting. The rejection filled me with a feeling that I would never be taken with love, that I would always be spoiled and unclean. Trash that was left on the street to die.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't care about what happened to you, not that way at least. You are beautiful and clean and pure. My feelings about…the physical act…don't have anything to do with you. Don't have anything to do with what happened before you were changed or with what happened today." Suddenly, and quite surprisingly, he reached out and took me in his arms, pressing my body against his.

"Rose, you will find someone one day who will love you the way that you deserve to be loved. But I am not him." He pulled away and kissed me on my forehead. He did not look at me again. "I love you like a brother. That is what I want to be for you. I would be a failure at anything else. Can you understand that?"

I still felt the sting of rejection, but I nodded. "I will go get dressed. Thank you for your help today."

Edward sighed, hearing the distance in my voice. But I still felt shame at being rejected. I was glad that he hadn't taken me out of pity, that he was honest with me. I believed what he said, that he thought I was pure. That would eventually be enough. I dressed slowly.

"Let's go home, Edward."

"Let's go home, sister." He smiled at me, asking silently to be forgiven.

"I wonder if mom's home yet, brother." I smiled back and grasped his hand. "We have more plans to make."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I had serious writer's block on all fronts. Thanks to all who keep me going on this story.

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I hunted alone more and more often. Edward trusted me more after seeing me in town, seeing me deny my natural impulses. So once Carlisle and Esme left the house for the day, Edward would frequently leave me to my own devices.

We still hadn't found a way to get at the rest of the men whom I'd marked for death. Two weeks had passed since Smythe's death. No one suspected me, of course, although the barman had talked about the mysterious woman whom Smythe had followed into the alley. I was, of course, dead. But I confess that I was a tad disappointed. I wanted the men to fear me, and what good was it if no one knew that I had crushed him to death?

Everyone in town was at least clear that Smythe had been murdered, but they were, naturally, looking for a man, a large man, someone they could understand capable of the damage that Smythe had clearly sustained: the crushed larynx, the broken ribs, the internal bleeding. Smythe's body had been an horrific thing for the people who'd found him, his face bloated, the whites of his eyes blood red, the black bruising that covered his throat. The word had spread from the lowest circles of Rochester society—the man and the prostitute who had found him, stumbling over him on their way to their assignation—to the highest, to the King household. And all segments were worried. Someone—something—dangerous was loose on the streets of Rochester. If only they knew.

I was restless and frustrated. Edward had taken to visiting Rochester nearly every day, usually right at twilight, trying to find out the routes that the men took home, trying to find a moment when they'd be alone. Perhaps they cut through alleys or had a habit of walking down by the water's edge. Something, anything, just a moment when they could be grabbed.

According to Edward, he found nothing.

I didn't like leaving this up to him. I felt more than capable of doing my own reconnaissance work. But he wouldn't allow it, in spite of my admirable job when we went down to town to hunt Smythe.

"I was with you then, Rosalie. To allow you to go into town alone is to expose us all," he'd said on more than one occasion.

I thought he was regretting helping me to kill Smythe. I thought it in his presence to see his response. "I can't deny that I dislike killing. I've done too much of it. But I also know that Smythe was too damaged to continue to live. I can accept what we have done."

But he didn't know if the remainder of the men needed killing. I knew that they did.

So I suppose that my actions that Wednesday were to be expected. I couldn't wait any longer.

It was a rainy, grey day. I'd gone out for an early hunt, before Carlisle and Esme left for once, but instead of leaving the house and heading north as I usually did, I headed east. Toward town.

No one had noticed that I'd dressed in one of the skirt sets that Edward had purchased for me. I usually hunted in slacks, but for some reason, everyone failed to notice my attire. They were busy preparing for their day. I'd tucked away the veiled hat I'd worn to kill Smythe. I'd arranged my hair with care, and my face was framed with delicate pin curls, as it had been frequently so in life. I wanted to be at least vaguely recognizable.

I wanted them to see me.

I no longer needed the maps of routes we'd drawn up. Edward had marked each day's routes on the map of Rochester, and I'd pored over them so that I knew where my prey was at any given moment.

The clock in the town square read 8:32 when I passed. Everywhere, men were leaving for work. Billy Jeffries, Robert Stephens, and Ted Jackson would be among them. No one paid particular attention to me, other than to admire me as I passed. And I was used to that, so I paid them no mind. Were they to approach me, I could easily snap their necks. The knowledge surrounded me like protective armor. I feared nothing. Their smells were tantalizing, and I found that my mouth stayed filled with venom. I knew my eyes would be black, impenetrable. So much the better. Blood from my last hunt kept the thirst at a manageable level. And my determination kept me focused.

As I approached the Jeffries home, I noticed the door opening. I crossed the street, being careful to watch my speed, to keep it the plodding pace of the human. I made sure the veil was in place before I turned toward his house, to where he was walking. I made myself still, like a statue. Jeffries eventually stiffened, sensing someone watching him, and he turned toward me. I'm sure I made quite a figure, dressed entirely in black, my golden hair cascading over my shoulders, standing still as only a vampire can. I enjoyed the way his face paled, the way his pace quickened, the way he threw panicked looks over his shoulder. I decided to follow, to lengthen the sweet torture.

I followed him down the street, one block, two blocks. My shoes made a sharp triptrap on the sidewalk. It seemed to echo each time we passed an alley between the buildings. I could tell from the stiff set of Jeffries shoulders that he knew I followed.

He glanced over his shoulder in the third block, and I was careful to freeze in my unsettling stillness once more. His face was beginning to look purely terrified.

I loved it.

He sped up, and so did I. He could run, of course, and I would always be able to catch him. Each time he looked over his shoulder, I froze, staring at him with an intensity that no human could match. At the fifth block, Stephens and Jackson met up with him, emerging from a side street.

"What's the matter with you, Jeffries?" Jackson asked, seeing his pale face and wide eyes.

Jeffries whispered, "Behind me. She's following me."

I froze once more, allowed Stephens and Jackson to see me. There were few others on this section of street, so I decided to show them that I was not human. I leapt across the street in a single bound, and when I was across from them, having startled a preoccupied man sitting on a bench—"Where did you come from, missy?" he asked—I hissed, bared my teeth in their direction, and then vanished down a side alley.

I could hear their exclamations of fear. I could almost smell their fear. I loved every bit of it. I waited for them to scurry like rats down the street, and then I calmly walked the way that Jackson and Stephens had come, using their scents to retrace their steps, until I knew the route that they had taken. They lived most distant from the bank, very near one another. In fact, you could see one house from the other. Their chosen route ran through some fairly deserted alleys. I could tell from their scents, so easy to identify and single out, that very few others took the same route.

It was perfect. I could take them together. I would need Edward's help, and to enlist it, I would have to admit that I'd travelled down to Rochester alone. He would find out anyway, once the three men opened their mouths, as they inevitably would. The rumors would eventually reach Edward, and would perhaps meet Esme's and Carlisle's ears as well. Sooner or later, they would find out about my involvement. There would eventually be a catalyst for our move. I'd always known that. But I also knew that Esme and Carlisle would forgive me, just as they'd forgiven Edward for temporarily forsaking their lifestyle. I felt slight guilt knowing I was taking advantage of their natures, but I needed to do this, to make sure that these men would not survive to see their next years.

I made my way back up to the house, reliving each moment, each exquisite look of terror on the faces of the men I so loathed. I was once again thirsty, so I made sure that I took another deer on the way home. I imagined that the bones breaking in the animal's neck were those of the men below. I looked so forward to hearing them snap.

Edward knew the moment I returned that I'd been among humans. He could smell them on me. His face paled.

"You went to town?" His eyes were wide, his voice low and dangerously calm.

"Yes. Yes, I did." I met his eyes in a gesture of defiance. I was not ashamed.

"How could you do that? How could you put us all in danger? Does your insanity know no bounds?"

"No one was hurt."

"Did someone see you?"

"Only people who won't live past tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You let them see you?"

"Yes. I did. I want them to know I'm coming. They won't tell anyone, I'm sure." I didn't believe that, but Edward didn't need to know that. "Who would believe they saw Rosalie Hale on the street? Who would think I had a reason for haunting their steps? After all, a stranger killed me, not one of their golden children." My voice was brittle.

"You cannot expose us like this, especially to meet your own ends. If you are to be a part of this family, you cannot threaten us this way. You seem to think the only thing you are risking is our disapproval. You know Carlisle and Esme will forgive almost anything you could do. You fail to understand that there are threats bigger than losing their respect. There are forces outside this family that could destroy us all."

I sat in silence. I didn't know what he meant, but I was not going to allow him to make me regret my decision to allow those men to see me. I would never regret it.

Edward was suddenly beside me, gripping my arm in his stony hand. He shook me. "You know so little," he hissed. He marched me into Carlisle's office, stood me in front of a very old picture of Carlisle with some men I didn't recognize. "Aro. Caius. Marcus. Do you know who they are?"

I shook my head sullenly.

"The Volturi."

"And what are they to me?" I asked coldly. "Wall decoration."

"Let me assure you, they are a great deal to you." Edward shook me again. "They are the ruling class, and should they find out about what you are doing, the risks you are taking, you will doom us all."

"To what? We can't be killed."

"Oh, we can. They have vampires who will tear you limb from limb. They will burn each and every piece, every hair from your head, before those pieces can find one another. You will die, and you will suffer. And if they catch you, we all will."

Edward was never going to make me admit that my behavior was wrong. I snatched my arm from his grasp.

"Then we won't get caught. But I am not going to stop what I am doing. If need be, let the Volturi kill me. Do you honestly think I care? I will tell them that you didn't know, that I acted alone."

"They will know I knew. Aro has a gift very similar to mine. He will know your thoughts. All of them. All the thoughts you have ever had. And he will know mine. Perhaps Carlisle and Esme will escape, perhaps not. But you and I will burn."

I remained defiant. "I will not stop."

Edward hissed, "I am not asking that you stop. Merely that you follow my rules. The rules I had set up as a condition of my helping you. If not, you will no longer be welcome in this family. I will make sure that you never return to this home. You will be alone."

It was the one threat that could reach me. The loss of Esme was the only thing I feared.

I finally bowed my head a little. "I will follow you," I said. The words cut my throat like glass.

For the rest of the day, we were silent. I think we both wondered if Carlisle or Esme would hear rumors before they got home. I knew they'd spread like wildfire in a town fearing for its own safety in the wakes of my murder and Smythe's mysterious killing.

It became quite apparent after they returned that neither had heard anything. They chattered about their days, asked about ours, and didn't seem to notice the unnatural silence—unnatural even for our unusual household—that had descended around Edward and me.

It was another day or two before I told Edward the useful information I had from my ill-fated journey into town. He, of course, already knew, having read it in my mind. He knew as well as I that it would be our best bet for reaching Stephens and Jackson. The danger would be in getting them at the same time. One could not be allowed to escape.

"It means that I will, unfortunately, have to help, to hold one." Edward's lip curled in distaste.

"What if I could incapacitate both at once? Hit their heads together? Hold them together? I'm certainly strong enough." I wanted to prevent Edward from participating any more than he had to, both to keep him going and to protect him in the event that we were caught.

"That might work," Edward said thoughtfully. "I'll have to be ready in case one gets away."

I nodded. I could allow him to be backup. They could not be allowed to escape.

We ironed out the plan. We would carry it out the next day.

So early the next morning, we prepared ourselves again to commit murder. The hat, the change of clothes, the overfeeding…all brought back memories of the day Smythe died. We would stow my clothes just as we'd done that day, we'd amble into town slowly, we'd position ourselves in the most deserted alley that the two men ventured through on their way to work, we'd do what needed to be done, and we'd return home.

So just before eight o'clock, we found ourselves waiting in an alley, flattened in a doorway to prevent making a silhouette that would naturally cause fear in my victims. It seemed like a very long time before the footsteps sounded, echoed off the aging brick walls. I thought more than once that I was thankful that my vampire body didn't cramp.

When the footsteps fell, when we heard the murmured conversation of the men, appropriately about the unusual apparition they'd seen earlier in the week, when they were very nearly to the place where they would certainly see us, Edward stepped out in front of them.

"Well, hello," Jackson said in surprise. "I didn't see you there." He looked nervous. Stephens looked terrified, and he began to back away. In one leap, I was over them, behind them, blocking their way back out of the alley. They heard my feet land behind them with a sharp click, and they turned to see the very thing they'd been fearing for days.

"That's funny. We saw you," I purred.

"Who are you?" squeaked Stephens.

"I'm hurt. You don't recognize me?" I pulled the veil back from my eyes. They still hadn't reached the gold color of the rest of my family. I'm sure a thin outline of red was visible around the black.

Both men's eyes bulged. "R-r-r-rose?" Jackson finally stammered.

"I prefer Miss Hale, if you don't mind. I didn't quite make it to Misses, did I? You boys made sure of that."

"We-we-we…" Stephens stammered.

"You don't seem to enjoy my company any more." I stepped forward. Edward simply waited behind the men, whose attention was all on me. I reached out a cold finger and touched Jackson's cheek. He shrank away. "Now, that's not nice. You used to want me to touch you."

Stephens was a shade of green. He looked as if he might be sick. I turned toward him. "And you…you used to want to be near me very much. So much that you just took what you wanted, didn't you?" I grabbed his neck. "Now it's my turn." I began squeezing, lifted him off the ground. Jackson began backing up. He backed into Edward and then spun around so fast that he fell. I took two steps forward, still holding Stephens by the neck, and wedged my foot up against his chin, pressing down on his neck until he stopped moving. "Careful, careful," I tsked. "You wouldn't want to get hurt now, would you?"

"You…killed…Smythe…" Jackson forced out of his throat.

"Oh, yes, I did!" I said brightly. Stephens's face was purple, the vessels in his eyes rupturing as he choked. I jerked my hand in a twisting motion, as a human would shoo a fly, and heard the delightful snap of the bones in his neck. The useless clawing at my arm ceased at once, and his head flopped backward. Jackson let out a frightened sob. I threw Stephens carelessly aside. His body hit the wall with a thud. More bones broken, and a few bricks as well. He lay in a crumpled mass.

Jackson said, "I…I…"

I lessened the pressure on his neck. I was curious what he had to say.

"I don't…know…why…" he gasped.

"Why I'm killing you?" I asked, incredulous.

"We…deserve…to…die…" he was having trouble breathing, his voice ragged and faint. "We don't…know…why…we killed…you."

I immediately began pressure once more. "You killed me because you are weak. You killed me because you are diseased. You killed me because you thought you could get away with it."

I sat down on his chest and replaced my foot with my hands. I bent my face down to his, watching his eyes begin to bulge as I squeezed the life out of him. "And I'm killing you because you need it." He stopped his useless struggling, and died.

I stood, and spat venom near him. Their proximities, no matter how abhorrent to me, appealed to my thirst. But it was manageable, so much fainter than my hate. I gazed down at Jackson's face, then walked over to Stephens. Both were horrifying spectacles.

"Shall we hide them?" I asked, not particularly caring.

"No, leave them here where they will be found. There is no need to prolong the inevitable," Edward answered. I couldn't read the look in his eyes.

The deaths of these two men would definitely start the rumors once more. Hallowell and Jeffries would be harder to get to, and Royce nearly impossible. But I would get to them. And they would suffer and die just as their friends had.

We turned and walked out of the alley, pausing to make sure that we would not be seen. The street was not crowded, but it was not unoccupied either. I was glad that no blood had been spilled. I looked merely slightly disheveled, and Edward reached over to straighten my hat, pull the veil down a little more, to shield my eyes from passersby.

"Thank you," I said simply. I meant for more than the hat, and Edward, naturally, knew that.

He nodded curtly and took my hand, for cover more than anything, and we walked slowly down the street.

A scream sounded from behind us. "Dead! They're dead!" a man's voice cried.

Found already. We turned curiously, as did the others on the street. We were forced to mimic what the people around us did. If we behaved differently, we would be noticed. We looked at one another, at the people around us who were drifting back toward the alley. Murmurs reached our ears: _Dead! Still warm! Two men! Who? Who could have?_ My ears picked my name out of the panicked babble, and for a moment, I felt fear. Could we have been found out so easily?

But no, they were speculating about my murder. I was tempted to sigh in relief, but of course, I didn't need to. Edward squeezed my hand, both to comfort and to warn me to get my reaction in check. A woman stood next to me, crying. I couldn't fathom her reaction. She should celebrate the deaths of these men. Instead, she moaned, low in her throat. "What is happening in our town? What evil is this?" she said, turning toward me.

"I do not know," I said. I couldn't touch her, although the human thing to do would be to do so, but luckily at that moment, someone she knew came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

We were unsure how to make our escape without drawing attention to ourselves, so we were forced to wait, two more faces in a growing, panicked crowd. The first policemen on the scene sounded a whistle. "Go on about your business, please! Move along there! Move along!" The crowd began to disperse, making its frightened, weary way down the street, splintering into smaller and smaller groups, until we were all away, and Edward and I were moving once more toward the safety of our home.

Edward was tense, his jaw moving as he ground his sharp teeth together. He said nothing until we reached the edge of the woods and plunged into their sheltering green. "That was too close."

"But we made it," I said. I surveyed myself calmly and decided that I didn't need to change. I wanted to get out of the clearing as soon as possible. The memory of my humiliation at propositioning Edward was still fresh. I cared not about his rejection, but the fact that I'd so humbled myself in front of him still stung. I scooped up the extra clothes from where they waited and started off toward home. Edward eventually caught up with me.

"Carlisle and Esme will find out about this, no question," Edward said.

"I'm sure they will, if they haven't already." Carlisle would probably see the bodies when they reached the hospital morgue. He would certainly hear about them. And Esme spent much of her day in City Hall, which shared a building with the police station. They would know before they returned at dusk. The only question was whether or not they'd suspect us.

"Carlisle certainly will," said Edward, responding once more to my thoughts. "He'll see the bodies, realize the amount of strength it took to break so many bones. He will naturally think of us."

"Will he allow us to continue?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. We could potentially appeal to the fact that these were men who didn't deserve to live, but Carlisle is…" he struggled to find the word, "…a pacifist. He believes that all life has value. Even ours. Even theirs."

"I'll have to leave the family if he can't accept this." I was sad at the thought, but knew that I couldn't leave the rest alive.

"I know," Edward said. He actually sounded sad. I was surprised. "I do care about you, Rosalie. And I care about Esme, and I know that she will not want to lose you. Should all of this come out, it is Esme to whom you must appeal. She will be the only one who can gain Carlisle's acceptance of the situation. She will probably understand."

I could feel the shadow of dusk approach, although it was hours away still. The end of the day would bring my actions to light. I would have to accept what consequences would come.

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Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for the lag in updating. Real life challenges took me away from my story for a while, as they will probably continue to do periodically. I can't promise regular, timely updates, but I can promise that the story will be finished. I have no intentions of abandoning it.

Thanks as always to my friends on UU. You guys are the best! adoraklutz, I'm dedicating this chapter to you because I know how you love my spooky Rose. I lift my coffee cup in your general direction. Sareeswfla, thanks for letting my bounce some ideas for this chapter off of you. You are the best sort of rubber. And whoever nominated this for an Indie, thanks so much. It's good to know someone out there loves Rose too.

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The day passed slowly, so slowly. Each distant noise that my keen ears heard, each rustle of the leaves in the forest, I was sure brought the end of my time with the Cullens. I paced, I worried, I behaved, in short, like a human concerned that the end of her life was coming.

If only I'd known, when I was human, when my own end found me that night.

Edward, on the other hand, was immobile. He sat, apparently calmly, on the sofa in the library, reading.

"Your worry will not change what we have done, nor will it change what will come," he said. Sensible advice, yes, but useless to me. I could not lose Esme. If I'd still believed in God, I would have prayed. But God had forsaken me on that dark street and left me to the mercies of men who had none.

So the hours passed in just this way. Edward's reading, my endless pacing.

And then a sound came that was certainly the end of my life as a Cullen. Footsteps. And raised voices.

When Carlisle and Esme entered the house, they were arguing.

"You know as well as I, Esme, that they had to have done this." Carlisle was not his normally calm self. He was actually raising his voice at his beloved.

"And you know as well as I, Carlisle, that if they did, those men deserved it. Have you forgotten how she looked when you brought her here? Do you have any idea the amount of blood I sponged off her body? Where it all came from?"

"I examined her, Esme, I know the extent of her injuries and their cause."

"Then you know as well as I that these men are a menace. They should give them the key to the city, if they indeed had something to do with it."

Esme was…on my side? A glimmer of hope rose in my chest. Edward's face was set like stone. He was readying himself for battle.

"There is never an excuse for violence, Esme."

"Perhaps not, Carlisle, but there is frequently a reason. And if ever someone had a reason for turning to violence, Rose does."

Carlisle sighed. "Esme, she is a newborn. She cannot go down to the city. You know this. But we have evidence that not only has she been there, she has been murdering its residents. Those men may be damaged, they may be vile, but will their mothers and fathers cry less than Rose's did at her funeral? Will they feel their sons' deaths are justified?"

Esme sighed as well. "Of course they won't understand. They do not know the evil living in their own homes. Or perhaps they do, but don't care. My mother-in-law knew what she had raised, what lived with me. She thought, as women who are beaten and broken do, that men were simply like that. So his family never protested what their son did, never lifted a finger to help me. And anyone who came after me would have met the same fate. Am I sorry that he is dead? No. I'm not. His death saved God only knows how many women from a life of violence. And these men's deaths do the same. You stand there and preach to me that all life has value. What about mine? What about Rose's? What about the women who would certainly have suffered at the hands of these men? Do you honestly think that Rose was the first? Or that she would be the last?"

Carlisle was silent for a while. "I understand what you say, Esme. But I cannot tolerate murder. No matter of whom."

"This was not murder, Carlisle. This was justice. You have no idea how Rose suffered. How she continues to suffer. Only I know that. And Edward. Edward can see into both of us in a way that you can't. You said on the way home that you were most disappointed in him. I, on the other hand, am proud. Proud that he cares enough about Rose to help her. If they did this together, the way you think, then he was with her, helping her. He has compassion enough to want to help her suffering end in any way she can."

Edward was listening with his eyes shut, to both the spoken and the unspoken. He murmured, "The tide is turning," and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at him.

"I am going to join the conversation. You remain here for now, Rose."

Soon, Edward's voice joined in.

"Hello, Carlisle, Esme," Edward said, as if he did not know what they'd been discussing, as if they met while on a stroll in the woods.

Carlisle's voice was cold. "Edward. I suppose you know what transpired in town today."

"I certainly do. I was there."

There was silence for a moment. "You admit it, then." Carlisle's voice was flat.

"Naturally, I do. I did not raise my hands to those men, but I did assist Rose."

"How could you? How could you do such a thing?" Carlisle's voice broke. His disappointment in Edward was obvious.

"Because she was determined to have it done, and I wished only to help her heal and keep the family safe. She has done nothing that would point to us, I have made certain of it. She is surprisingly strong for a newborn. She can control herself in a room full of humans. I have seen it. I would have stopped her from hurting the innocent or giving away our secret."

"You have no right to determine who shall live and who shall die." Carlisle's voice was angry, barely controlled.

"And yet you decided for each of us that we should live on, no matter what form. You have decided in many settings, in hospitals and battlefields, in offices and on the street, whom you would treat and whom you wouldn't. As a doctor, you hold life and death in your hand every day. Certainly, some good men have died while some evil men have lived, simply because of your efforts. The death of an evil man can be a benefit. Look at Esme's life. What would you have done if you'd wandered into their home while she was being beaten? Would you have stopped to counsel? Or would you have taken action?"

Edward paused to let those words sink in. "And Esme has healed since her husband died. She has. You must see it. By leaving these men alive, women will certainly continue to die. I have seen their thoughts. Whatever damage the incubus did is likely permanent. They were conflicted, in some cases, about what they'd done to Rosalie, but I heard their thoughts when they saw other women. Depraved, disgusting thoughts, of ripping them the way they did Rose, of wanting to see them crushed and broken underneath them. You must know that this was the only thing to do. Far more lives have been saved than have been taken."

They were all silent for a while. I thought Edward had made some good points, but I didn't know if they had convinced Carlisle.

Esme finally broke the silence. "You know he's right, Carlisle. Men like these do not stop. They don't. And if it gives Rosalie even one day's peace, I say it's worth it."

"And I say you are clouded by your love for Rosalie. Those men have parents who love them, too." Carlisle sighed. "I suppose I can't stop her, can I?"

I stepped into the hall where they were talking. "No, you can't, Carlisle. I need to do this."

He looked at me. His eyes were full of regret and sorrow. "I am truly sorry if I have doomed you to an unhappy existence. I thought I was acting for the best."

I looked down at my shoes. I couldn't bring myself to assure him that this was what I would have chosen. It wasn't. But in my miserable existence, I was discovering family like I'd never known, and that had true value.

"You are my family now," I said. "I am glad that I found you…or that you found me."

Esme rushed forward and grabbed me in a crushingly tight hug.

"I am sorry that what I've done is causing trouble for you," I said.

"No, no, Rosalie," she said. "I'm endlessly sorry for what happened to you that night. I would give you up if I could turn back the clock."

I thought about that. I'd be married to Royce now, if that night had never happened. And how much worse would my life be? What horrors would have happened behind the doors of that mansion?

"I just have to kill them," I said. "I'm sorry, Carlisle."

"I am, too, Rose. But Edward has a point, as much as I dislike what is happening here."

Edward spoke again. "Perhaps we can turn the situation to some sort of advantage. If we have access to these men, we can try to find out the incubus's effect on them, to see what their exposure to one has done."

Edward was very intelligent, and he was playing to Carlisle's one weakness: the desire for knowledge.

"Perhaps," Carlisle said thoughtfully.

Esme said, "You know we will have to move when this is over, Rosalie. It will mean leaving Rochester."

I nodded. "Home is where you are," I said. She beamed at me.

"Well, I have the cabin in Tennessee mostly ready. I was thinking that we'd have to leave soon, since we've been here so long. I think maybe it will do you some good, getting away from Rochester."

I nodded. I didn't know how I felt about that, but I knew that I'd follow her, like Ruth followed Naomi. She was my family now.

The house remained largely silent for the rest of the evening. We were each, I think, consumed with our own thoughts. Edward was probably being bombarded from all sides. I felt a little sorry for him.

Esme and Carlisle left for work early the next morning. They'd spent a quiet evening, but I noticed that they held hands as they disappeared from sight into the trees. I was relieved that the rift did not appear to be permanent.

I found Edward sitting, as usual, in his place on the library sofa. "Thank you," I said.

He nodded, but did not lift his eyes from the page in his book.

"So, what is the plan for finishing?" I asked.

He sighed. "I'm not sure, Rosalie."

I wondered if he was having second thoughts.

"No…not second thoughts exactly. I don't like killing either, you know. I think what we are doing is what needs to be done, but I don't like it," he said. "And I'm afraid you like it too much."

"I can't deny that killing them has made me feel more secure, or that having vengeance doesn't bring with it a certain….pleasure. But I'm not feeling the freedom that I'd hoped for," I said. There was no point in lying to Edward.

He nodded. "If only our emotions healed as easily as our bodies."

I said nothing. I wondered how long we'd have to wait before we continued with our plans.

"Not long. Carlisle spent a long time thinking last night. He wonders if having one of the men here would help with his research."

My face froze in horror. Here, in my home?

"I don't think he'd treat him as a guest, Rosalie. I can't deny that the research wouldn't be good. And it might help us find the incubus, John."

It was easy for Edward to manipulate me. He knew my thoughts, my desires, everything. Much better than I wished.

"I am sorry. I do not mean to invade," he said quietly.

"But you do," I said angrily.

He inclined his head slightly, agreeing with me. His imperiousness was infuriating.

"So you propose capturing one of these men? So Carlisle can….what?"

"He wants to interview him about what happened to you. About what his feelings have been since."

"I can't listen to that…monster…I can't…have him here."

"I think Carlisle may have an alternate location in mind."

"Will I be able to kill him after?" I was mostly sure that I meant the man, and not Carlisle for interfering.

"Probably," he said. "I think Carlisle has made peace with the fact that he cannot stop you. It is an uneasy peace, but peace nonetheless."

I owed Carlisle and Esme and Edward. All of them. This was such a deviation from my plan, though. It felt wrong and frightening.

"Can you let me capture him?" Edward asked. "I'm not sure that you have enough control over your strength. Accidents happen."

"So I have to give you control over the next? Can I at least choose who it will be?"

"If you so desire."

There were only two remaining. I would not give them Royce. And John was long gone, to be found much later. There was Billy Jeffries, who had seen me already, and Richard Hallowell. I knew Hallowell had a large family. I didn't know if they were in danger from him, but they would certainly know if he disappeared suddenly, and if there were no body for a while…

"Billy Jeffries," I said.

"Okay."

"When are you planning on going after him?"

"I'm not sure. I will discuss it with Carlisle when he returns this evening."

And just like that, my killing spree was put on hold.

I spent time over the next two days hunting. I spent time with Esme, listening to her chatter, but I had nothing to contribute to the conversation. I spent time reading. I watched Esme knit and sketch. Minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours, just sitting, watching, waiting. Two days turned into three.

I began to despair that Edward and Carlisle had abandoned their project altogether. Edward finally came to me on the third day, and said, "Patience. I will go out tomorrow."

"Where will you keep him?" I asked. I couldn't decide how I felt, if I wanted to hear Jeffries's excuses for his actions, if I wanted to know the extent of his evil, or if he still possessed any goodness.

"There is a small cabin in the woods to the west. Carlisle and Esme use it sometimes when they desire more…privacy."

I nodded.

"Are you planning to come listen?" he asked me. "Or are you still unsure?"

"I haven't decided, as you well know." I got tired of Edward pretending that he didn't always know what I was thinking.

"I only do it to make people more comfortable," he said gently.

"I know. I just wish you wouldn't pretend," I said. "It's like a lie."

He didn't say anything for a while, then, "Tomorrow. Jeffries will be at the cabin tomorrow, at dusk." He left me alone, and I did not see him until the following day.

The next day, Edward was gone early.

Carlisle paused on his way out the door. "I supposed you know that Edward is bringing Jeffries to the cabin tonight?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"Can I assume that you will be outside listening?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. My feelings on the matter changed often.

"May I ask one favor?" Carlisle made eye contact with me for the first time since he found out of my plans.

"Yes."

"If you choose to come listen to the questioning, will you please bring Esme with you?"

"Certainly."

He nodded, once, and left the house. I was alone, to spend the longest day in my vampire existence, waiting.

I learned at least one thing that day. Vampires have no need to move. Ever. I stood at the window, perfectly still, all day, waiting for some movement in the forest that would indicate that someone had returned.

It was nearly dark before the leaves parted to reveal Esme. She was alone and somber. She entered the house nearly silently, and was behind me before I turned.

"Are you sure that you want to hear this, Rosalie?" she asked.

"I think so," I said.

"No matter what he says, it won't change anything. It won't make things better. It may well make them worse." She reached out with one hand and gently touched my cheek.

"I have to. I don't know why."

She nodded solemnly, and took my hand. She led the way out of the house, and we began to run. We ran west, a long way, it seemed. We finally came to a stop outside a small stone cabin. I could already hear voices inside. I walked slowly, as if sleepwalking, toward the small house.

Esme called after me, "Rosalie!" I did not turn.

One of them was in there. I could smell him. Stale alcohol, a faint whiff of funereal chrysanthemum, and the rich smell of his blood. I fought back my thirst with the thought of who he was, what he did, and why he was there.

The conversation was oddly cordial. I could hear that he was frightened and crying, but there wasn't screaming. I'd expected it for some reason, but now that I was listening in, I couldn't really put my finger on why. Mr. Jeffries was, after all, in the company of Carlisle and Edward Cullen. As strange as the encounter was, they were well-known around town, and I'm sure he had no real idea of the amount of danger that he was truly in.

"Why-why-why am I here?" Jeffries sobbed.

"You are here because we have some questions for you. Before Rosalie Hale died, you met a man named John, correct?" Carlisle's voice was kind, friendly.

"Y-y-yes…he knew Smythe. Or Stephens. I can't remember. He knew one of us, and he joined our group."

"When he joined the group, how long had you been at the bar?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Why would we do that?" Carlisle asked.

"Because Smythe is dead, and Jackson and Stephens. And the other day…I saw…I saw…"

"You saw what? Calm down…we can't understand you."

"I saw Rosalie! She was following me, and then Stephens and Jackson were dead. Is she a ghost?"

"I don't believe in ghosts, myself," Edward said.

"But…I saw her! I did!"

"Let's not worry about that right now. Okay? Let's go back to that night at the bar, shall we? How long had you been there?"

"It was…most of the afternoon. John came in after dark."

"I see. That's good."

Esme touched my shoulder. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

"Yes. How did they get him here?" I asked.

"Apparently, Edward found him in the club. He'd already had quite a bit to drink. He'd been to his friends' funerals today, so it's understandable, I suppose."

I looked down, not sure how to feel. She stroked my shoulder lovingly.

"Edward waited for a while, and then slipped something Carlisle had given him into his drink. When Jeffries went to sleep, Edward took him, and then brought him here."

"Didn't anyone see Edward?"

"Edward's very fast," she said reassuringly.

I refocused on the conversation inside the building.

"So is it safe to say that you were all intoxicated by the time John joined your group?"

"Yes." Jeffries let out a sob. I wanted to break his teeth. How dare he cry? How dare he?

"It's okay, Jeffries. We're not going to hurt you." Carlisle was soothing my murderer. It was nearly more than I could stand.

"Relax, Rosalie. It's going to be all right." Esme cooed over me, stoking my back.

"Now. Did John touch you or share a drink with you?"

"A cigarette. He was kinda touching people. He liked to pat people on the back, stuff like that. He was very friendly."

"Were you hoping to meet a girl when you left the bar?"

"I-I-I-I was." He sounded ashamed.

"Okay. Did you have anyone in mind?"

"No. I remember hoping she'd be blonde. I like the blondes."

"What were you planning on doing when you met a girl?" Edward asked this one, and his voice was frightening. His words were sharp, and I could imagine the face that went with it.

"I don't know," Jeffries wailed. "I just…was…thinking that I'd really like to meet one."

"I see. Did you see any girls before you met up with Miss Hale?"

"H-h-h-how did you know?" Jeffries's voice trembled with fear. I smiled a little.

"That's not important right now. We are trying to piece together what happened that night."

"Why? What do you care? She was killed by a vagrant….everyone knows that. And you…you're a doctor. You're not a policeman. HOW DID I GET HERE?" Suddenly Jeffries became enraged.

"That is not important now, either. All you need know is that you must answer our questions." Edward's voice was eerily calm. "And please, do not shout."

"I WILL SHOUT IF I GODDAMN WELL—" His voice cut off with a gurgle.

Carlisle's voice sounded weary, "Edward, I have been lenient, but you will not harm our guest. He cannot very well answer our questions if you harm him, can he?"

Edward responded, not to Carlisle, but to Jeffries. "You will not shout. Do you understand? Good. You will answer the doctor, understand?"

Carlisle took over once more. "Edward! That's enough! Now, Mr. Jeffries, did you meet any other young ladies besides Miss Hale that evening?"

"No. No, I didn't." Jeffries sounded weary, defeated.

"When you stopped her, did you intend to assault her?"

"I didn't stop her. Royce did."

"I see. What were your feelings when you saw Miss Hale?"

"I was surprised. And I always felt…attracted to her. She was very beautiful."

"But she was Royce's fiancée, correct?"

"Yes. I was surprised when he started touching her in front of us. And I remember…someone…urging me to touch her too. I don't remember who it was."

"Think for me."

"I think it might have been John. But there was so much noise, and he was passing around a bottle. So he may have just been passing me the bottle?"

"Do you remember much of the assault?"

"Too much," Jeffries said. "I think about it all the time."

"Have you ever had the same urges before or since?"

"I-I-I…never did before that night. But now…I…"

"You've had similar urges since then?"

"Yes," Jeffries said. If I didn't have vampire hearing, it would have been inaudible.

"Does this worry you?"

"Yes! I know it's wrong, but I just…can't….stop thinking about it."

"When you got home, were you ill? Did you have any unexplained injuries?"

"I had some scratches, but I think Rosalie did that. And there was a scab on the back of my neck that I didn't remember. It itched."

"May I look at your neck?" Carlisle asked politely.

I couldn't see what happened then, but it became clear that Carlisle's inquest was coming to an end. I didn't know what would happen next.

"I believe you have a visitor," I heard Edward say. Esme's hand on my shoulder pushed me gently forward, and she whispered, "Go on."

Carlisle was leaving the cabin when I reached the door. "I wish you didn't have to do this," he said.

"But I do," I said quietly. Carlisle looked sad, but he nodded. I watched as he and Esme disappeared together into the woods. Carlisle walked very slowly, as if he'd aged a hundred years during the questioning.

I entered the room silently. Jeffries was sitting in a chair, unbound. Of course, Edward and Carlisle could keep him under control quite easily. He looked terrible. He was sweaty, pale, frightened. His eyes were tightly shut. He did not want the visitor he was about to receive, and he knew it.

Edward said sharply, "You have a guest. Eye contact is only polite."

Jeffries opened his eyes and immediately screamed.

Edward once again reminded him of his manners. "Do not scream in the lady's presence. Quiet, please."

Jeffries and I stared at one another for a long while. I felt slightly sorry for him, having listened to what had happened that night. But I did not forgive him for what I had gone through.

Surprisingly, Jeffries was the one to break the silence. "If you are not a ghost, what are you?"

I shrugged. "Not what I once was."

"I am sorry for what happened to you."

I didn't believe him. I looked at Edward, asking. He shook his head. "He is reliving that night, in detail."

"So, looking at me, you'd rather think of that than of what I might do to you?"

Jeffries was silent. Edward supplied his thoughts: "He does not think that you could harm him. He thinks he is stronger since you are a woman."

I smiled. "Really?" I asked him. I reached out and grabbed an arm, crushing all the bones within it. His eyes bulged, and he screamed once more, but stifled it quickly, apparently remembering Edward's instructions in etiquette. He began to whimper.

"I am going to kill you," I said. "I don't believe that you are salvageable. Thank you for that. I was beginning to wonder if I should go through with my plans. But knowing what you are now, I know what I must do."

Jeffries's breathing began to quicken until he was panting. "I'll make it quick," I assured him. I walked behind him because I couldn't stand looking at him any more, grasped his head in my hands and twisted until his neck broke. He slumped over and fell from his chair.

I looked at Edward. "I want to get rid of the body. I don't want Carlisle to have any more involvement in this."

Edward nodded. "I will collect some samples from the body for Carlisle. He will want them eventually."

"I'll wait outside," I said.

Edward took some time. I found out later that he took hair, a sample of flesh on the neck, blood samples, and saliva samples. At the time, I did not care at all, but what we learned that night was important, and the ramifications would be felt in many circles.

All I cared about was getting rid of the body and moving on to the next extermination, as I'd come to think of them.

I was growing weary of the killing.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated, even more than Rose appreciates a good dump site for Jeffries's body.


	10. Chapter 10

I am officially ending a long hiatus. I vow more updates, more quickly. Probably not as quickly as some, but as quickly as I can manage them.

Thanks for the continuing support from my small but seriously die-hard fangirls. (I think you're all girls. As my mom points out, you could be kidney-stealing, teenager-deflowering, onion-breathed weirdos.) This chapter is dedicated to Feisty Y. Beden, perhaps my most hardcore fan, who needs shit to read right now. And pain meds. I love you, girlie. Thanks for all the support and listening to me whine.

And now that I've totally BLOWN the atmosphere, I'll turn things over to Rose.

* * *

I hid the body near town, so that it would be found quickly. Too quickly. I heard the cries and screams of the passersby who saw him, lying peacefully in the grass just off the westernmost pathway. I hated listening to their pain. First because I had caused it, and second because they wept for a man who deserved no tears.

The run back to the house took little time. I was becoming more and more confident of my abilities, and the way to town was becoming more and more familiar. I had travelled this path too often.

But twice more, twice more my feet would have to carry me through these trees. Twice more my feet would have to carry men to their deaths. And I no longer knew how I felt about it.

When I returned to the house, it was completely silent. I walked through, the only being moving in the house, although it was a time when all should have been home. And they were. I found each standing immobile in their favorite spots. Esme by her desk, Edward by his piano, and Carlisle by the window in his office. No one moved or spoke. There is, of course, no need for any vampire to move or fidget. In our home, with Edward's ability to read thoughts directly from their source, there was seldom a need to speak. But this silence and stillness was unnerving.

Normally, I would have gone to Edward first, but I knew that he heard my approach, heard the questions forming in my mind, but he did not turn to engage me. I stood for what may have been a moment or an hour, standing in the center of a triangle formed by my statuesque family, unsure of whom to turn to for answers. If all were this concerned, this quiet, the source of the paradoxical unrest was clear.

Carlisle.

Carlisle, whom I had so disappointed by my actions, who had not yet had an opportunity to speak his mind directly to me, who had spoken only to my defenders. I would give him the chance.

I approached him quickly, decisively, before I had a chance to talk myself out of it. I heard Esme's intake of breath break the silence, and I wondered if I were making a mistake, but by then my feet had already carried me into Carlisle's study. He sighed as he heard my footsteps approach, and my unnecessary knock on his doorframe. He did not turn.

"We are a quiet family tonight," I said, pointing out the obvious.

"Yes, I suppose we are," Carlisle said. "Only fitting, I suppose, since we are all involved in murder, to be lost in one's thoughts, to be mired in guilt."

His words stung. I did not think of myself as a murderer. More of an executioner.

"I am sorry, Carlisle."

"But you have no intention of stopping?"

"I don't think I can. Not until it's done."

Carlisle nodded, although his shoulders dropped, losing some of their square resolve, into an attitude of defeat.

"You can't understand why?" I asked. I truly felt, as I still do, that their deaths were not only justified, but deserved. Necessary.

Carlisle sighed deeply. "I do understand why you are doing this. I do not understand how you feel, nor would I ever presume to. I have known Esme, known what happened to her, how she came to be with me, to be vampire. I would never wish for her absence, but if there were some way I could spare her the pain she felt when she was human, I would turn back the clock, and live the rest of my existence without her. What she went through was the closest thing to hell that we here on earth could possibly experience. The fact that she is not an absolute monster is only due to the fact that she is, perhaps, the most loving person ever to walk the earth."

I paused, unsure exactly how to take his words. "Do you think I am a monster?"

"I think, to some extent or another, we are all monsters. Not just vampires, but humans as well. We are higher predators than humans, but make no mistake, humans are predators, too. There is the rare person, like Esme, who can go through something terrible and retain the ability to love, but don't forget, she, too, came to the defense of what you are doing. She supports this killing."

"But you can surely understand why?" I said. I was angry that Carlisle was, on one hand, praising Esme's kind nature, and on the other, condemning her for loving me enough to allow me to do what I need to do. "We can't all be as civilized as you, as able to just let these people walk the earth, hurting whomever they will, as long as we don't have to get our hands dirty." My breath came faster, and the anger inside me built until I wanted to strike him, to break him out of his calm disdain.

"You never heard me say that these men are not deserving of punishment, nor will you ever," Carlisle said in his infuriatingly peaceful tone. "But I do not believe that we should be deciding this."

"And who deserves to decide more what they deserve than I? They killed me, Carlisle. They killed me. The stole my life after they stole my innocence. Who else should decide?"

"My dear, I worry that you are the least qualified to determine what their punishment should be."

I wanted to leap at him, scratch his eyes out, make him feel just a small sample of the pain that I had felt, that I had been feeling since my death. My breath came in small pants, my chest heaving with pure fury.

Carlisle turned toward me. "Rosalie, I do not wish to cause you more pain. You have suffered pain enough for several lifetimes. I want to save you more pain. That is why I do not support what you are doing."

"But you said earlier that you would allow me to continue." I sounded like a petulant child.

"Because I know that this is a choice I cannot make for you. You believe, and Esme, that this may help you toward healing. I'm not sure it will."

He paused, looking at me with both sorrow and love in his eyes. "I have killed, Rosalie. Humans and vampires and werewolves and more beings than you can imagine."

I looked at him, eyes wide with shock, as his words sank in. Carlisle had…killed?

"I know it is surprising. But I killed far more as a human than as a vampire. I learned, while human, the toll that killing takes on one's soul." He walked to his desk and sat down, gesturing me to a comfortable chair in the corner. "Please, sit. The telling may take a while."

"I was born in London, around 1642, perhaps. We did not keep close track in those days. When time is short, as lives were then, you do not care so much to mark its passing."

I was shocked. It had never occurred to me that Carlisle, so youthful and beautiful, was so much older than the rest of us.

"We are immortal, after all," Carlisle said, smiling, correctly reading my thoughts.

He continued with his story. "My father was an Anglican pastor, obsessed, as were many then, with the supernatural: vampires, ghosts, witches, demons, werewolves. He was committed to ridding the land of such evil. Humans having such poor senses, of course, and limited knowledge of the true picture of the supernatural, many innocent souls were killed, burned, hanged, mutilated. When he grew old, he turned to me to carry on his 'good works.' I was reluctant, but he and his strap persuaded me. I tried to avoid killing those who seemed simply mad. I pitied them, and believed not that they were possessed by demons, as my father insisted, but rather…sick, somehow. Curable. After all, Christ healed the mad, whether they were possessed by demons as the Gospels proclaimed, or whether there was some illness that they possessed that he was able to heal them of, I don't know. I had spent, even then, a great deal of time thinking about this. As a doctor, I know now that there are likely many physical causes for these ailments, many psychological causes that could be treated. I suspected so then, having a very different mind from my father, questioning so much that he spewed from his pulpit. His was an angry pulpit, full of hellfire. Not the loving God and Christ that I've seen in my own readings. We could never see eye-to-eye.

"I saw my father condemn the lowliest to death in the name of ridding the world of evil. Epileptics, women driven to sell themselves to feed their children, hysterics, poor urchins who wandered the streets at night because they had nowhere else to go, eccentrics, unfortunates born with birth defects…all were condemned and died for the sin of being different. It was painful to watch; yet watch, I did. I did not intervene, and because of me, many people died. At times, I even participated in the executions, at the urging of my father. I am ashamed of what we did and will work the rest of my life to make up for it. When I close my eyes, those poor souls are there, reaching out, crying out for help, and, like then, I do nothing. I relive those experiences every day of my existence.

"A time came when I could no longer deny what I should do. It had been a long time since I had brought forth someone for judgment, and my father was questioning my Christian ideals. Which, for my father, was done in the form of a beating. So perhaps it was simply to save my own skin that I went out that night to kill the creature that I would become.

"I spent a great deal of time in those dark days confused, no longer being able to recall what our purpose was, no longer being able to tell who was friend, who was foe, who was evil, who was harmless. People became objects whom I had to judge, and I lived paralyzed, barely capable of functioning under the burden my father had placed around my neck.

"But I was lucky, in a way. I found a nest of vampires living in the city. I watched them closely, and more than one person fell to their appetites, I'm afraid, before I became convinced that I should act. After all, I had to judge the vampires' victims as well. If the vampires were ridding the world of those whom I would condemn, then perhaps it was better that I let them go about their business. And it was tempting to condemn all who were out at so late night; to my mind, these people must clearly be about the Devil's work.

"Only one came out that night. He was shriveled, ragged, and nearly mad with thirst. My men and I greatly outnumbered him, of course, and we were armed, but we could not have known the strength of a crazed, starved vampire. He flattened half my men with one blow and attempted to flee, but when he realized that there was only one in pursuit—me—he turned for the attack. He bit me many times before the rest of the men caught up with us and beat him off of me. They left me to chase him, and I knew that I was contaminated. They would kill me when they returned.

"So, like a coward, I ran rather than face my own death. Figuratively, naturally, since I was so injured. The pain was extraordinary. My neck was all but severed, and he'd bitten my wrists to nearly bone. I was weak, bleeding, and the burning of the venom blacked out my vision. But I crawled to a nearby cellar entrance, and buried myself among the potatoes.

"The change took several days. I bit into a raw potato, attempting to muffle my screams. I could hear men searching for me. My father was among them. They knew I had been bitten, and that I would turn. My father wanted me dead. When it was complete, when I knew that they had been right, I tried to kill myself. But it is virtually impossible to do so. It is the great irony of our existence. We can kill so very many, but not ourselves.

"I avoided killing. I was so very tired of it. My human life had been drenched in blood and madness, and I could no longer bear it. Oddly, I was more compassionate as a vampire than as a human. There was no self-love, only an instinct for survival. I avoided being seen, even as much as I thought I wanted to die, and I avoided killing until I was so starved I resembled a walking skeleton more than a man. Out of desperation one day, I killed a deer. To my surprise, it lessened the pain of my thirst. And so I have lived this way ever since. The only humans I have bitten, I intended to turn. Whether that was right is something I struggle with. Particularly with you."

Carlisle's story was long, but I understood why he told it. We didn't speak for a long time. Finally, I worked up the courage to ask, "But weren't some of those you killed for your father evil? Don't you think that some of those deaths were justified? That there were people who survived because of your actions?"

"Perhaps. But I know for certain there were people who suffered. I made widows and orphans. I made mothers childless. I made fathers weep for wives and children lost. That is a certainty. And who was I ever to judge that even those people who were truly guilty could not have found redemption in their lives and still done some good in the world?" Carlisle's face was a mask of pain as he uttered these words.

"Do you think that the men that I have killed could ever be redeemed?" I asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. I think that what we have here is something beyond ordinary evil, that is true. And our conversation with Jeffries would cast the possibility of redemption into doubt. Have these men been infected with evil? Is it incurable? Can the venom of the incubus transform good men into monsters? I wish I could know for certain." Carlisle slammed his fist down onto the desk, denting its surface with his frustration. He was silent for a long time.

"Can you forgive me for what I must do?" I asked softly. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the answer to the question. I bent my head and studied my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

He looked at me, then rose to approach me. His cool hands lifted my chin, forcing my red eyes to his golden ones. His face was relaxed, kind. "Rosalie, my daughter, I love you. I want what is best for you. I don't want you to do this, and I can't understand why you need to do it. But I know that you do."

He kissed me gently on the forehead, and sat in the chair to my left. "Edward left us for a time, you know. Has he told you?"

I nodded.

"So you know that he lived a more…natural life during that time?"

I nodded again, too emotional to speak.

"I accept that those I love are imperfect beings. And I accept that we are predators. We are, it is true, more capable of rational thought than any other predator. We have consciences, and, I believe, souls. It is difficult, the life that we lead. It is a sacrifice beyond any other. Perhaps it was so easy to forgive Edward because he was giving in to his natural impulses. Perhaps I can identify with his desire to rid the streets of evil. But for him, too, killing took its toll. He has been less happy since he returned. I have spoken to him of my experiences, told him that I understand, but I don't know if that's exactly true. I don't have his abilities to see into a person." He looked sad.

"I think you do see, better than most." I reached out tentatively, and took his hand.

"You are going to finish what you have begun, aren't you?" he asked without looking at me.

"Yes. I think I have to."

"Then I will try to make my peace with it. But remember those whom these men are leaving behind. You make victims beyond those you kill. And those circles can spread in unpredictable ways, even turning upon their maker."

I nodded. My belief was that, while their families would certainly suffer, they would be safer without these men in their lives. I kissed Carlisle gently, hesitantly, on the cheek, surprising him I'm sure, and surprising me a little, too.

I left the house without speaking to either Edward or Esme. I didn't know what to say. I wandered through the forest, right to its edge, thinking all the while about what Carlisle had said. My thoughts continually returned to the things that Edward had reported, the vile thoughts that these men seemed to have when in the company of women, that the thoughts didn't seem to be affected by fear, weren't touched by remorse. They simply never changed. I could only believe that it was a matter of time before these men acted on their actions again, ripped another woman to pieces as I had been.

And they had families, mothers, sisters. Richard Hallowell had younger sisters, mere children. Would he turn upon them as he had me? Would a mother's pain at losing one child be greater than her pain at knowing that one child had brutalized another? Did my own pain give me the right to decide?

I was surprised to find myself quite near where I had left Jeffries's body. I'd walked at random, but here I stood, reflecting upon blood shed, blood yet to be shed. The commotion had lessened to the north of where I stood, where Billy Jeffries had been laid and, by now, removed to his home or to the mortuary. Birds sang in the trees above me, and I could hear the gentle sounds of flowing water caressing the rocks in the stream behind me. There was peace in the clearing, where before there had been panic and fear.//

It was overcast, and although it was still a gamble without a hat or coat, dressed as I was in a simple skirt and peplum blouse, it was enough to make me seem more human. In point of fact, I looked far more ghostly than vampire. My clothes were entirely white, matching my skin nearly perfectly. The only spot of color was my hair, cascading golden down my back, slightly paler than in my human life, perhaps, but still recognizable as my own.

Perhaps that was why, as I walked down the street, I turned heads. The murmurs didn't seem to be about my beauty, but my ghostly resemblance to one recently deceased Rosalie Hale. I suppose that the fact I had forgotten shoes didn't help matters. I should have cared, I suppose, but maybe, on some level, I was hoping for exposure, for something to turn me from the path that I had laid before me.

But nothing did. Before I knew it, I was before the house of my penultimate quarry: Richard Hallowell. He was there, I knew. I could hear him inside, smell the scent that I remembered from that night: stale sweat, the sweet smell of gin, and something else, unidentifiable yet familiar, organic, like blood and saliva and decay. There was also a child.

This made me freeze. She was what had stopped me from going after Hallowell before, if I was honest with myself. I had made excuses that Hallowell would be difficult to get to, but here I stood. There were others in the house, to be sure, but with my light step, no one would hear me. No one was looking. No one would hear Hallowell scream. I knew how to take care of that. One blow and he'd never speak again. It was the girl. I could hear her singing inside the house, a tuneless, wordless melody. I could picture her playing with her dolls, brushing their hair, feeding them from pretend bottles. In my imagination, she had golden hair like mine, dressed in white, but with rosy chubby cheeks. And she loved her brother. Edward had sensed that when he visited this home.

"Richard! Riiiiiiiiiiichard!" I heard the little girl call to her beloved brother. "Come play house with me! You can be the daddy!"

I heard Richard's footsteps stumbling down the hall. "Sal, I have a headache, love. Maybe later?"

"You _always_ say later. You never play wif me." I could picture her tiny pink lip poking out in a pout.

"I'm sorry, Sal. I'm not much fun, though. Why don't you play with Suzie or Paul?"

"Dey're at school, silly. And Mama's busy."

I could hear Richard sigh heavily. "Fine. What do daddies do?" I heard him sit down on the floor.

"Daddies go to work and dey smoke pipes and read the newspaper."

"Okay. Where's my pipe?"

"I dun-no," Sal said, sing-song.

"Well, how am I supposed to be a daddy without a pipe?"

"I dun-no," she sang again.

"Sal, my head's really hurting. Can't we do this later?"

"You ALWAYS say later," she said, the pout edging into her voice again.

I crept around the house to stand outside the window of Sally's room. Hallowell had his back to the window. I could just see the top of his sister's head. Her hair was a pale brown, darker than mine, with little ringlets forming a halo around her head. Richard seemed to be looking at her wearily. I wondered what he might be thinking.

"I don't think you really want to know," came a voice from behind me.

"Edward," I said. "You came."

"I promised I would help. And here I am."

"So what is he thinking right now?"

"He's thinking of his headache, the deaths of his friends." Edward paused, tilting his head slightly as if listening hard. "The thoughts are snarled, pictures mostly. He's seeing your face, his sister's face. There's blood. Pleasure. His dead friends. Your face again." His face tightened, slowly settled into cold rage, but he did not speak.

"What is it?"

"He's imagining his sister lying in your place. He…doesn't mind the image."

I hissed, and heard Edward give a low curse. I glanced up, realizing that Edward had flattened himself against the side of the house.

"Rose!" he hissed. But it was too late. A pair of brilliant blue eyes beneath pretty brown ringlets was peering out of the window. I could see her nose pressed against the windowsill.

"Richard!" she said, breathless. "There's an angel watching me."

"That's nice, Sally," Hallowell replied wearily.

"No! She's really there. She's dressed all in white, wif no shoes, and pretty golden hair. But she got no halo, Richard. Where's her halo?"

"I don't know, Sally. Maybe she left it up in heaven."

"Hide!" hissed Edward. "Before someone else sees you."

I didn't know what to do. There was a tree behind me. I thought for a moment that if I made it to the tree, I could hide in its branches. I took a leap, landing softly on a low branch, but I caused the leaves to shake as if in a sudden gale.

"Rose!" came another angry hiss from beneath the window.

I heard a sharp intake of breath. "The angel flew, Richard! She flew into da tree! Come look!"

I heard Richard's footsteps approach the window, and I tried to shrink back further into the shade of the leaves.

His gasp told me I wasn't well enough hidden. "What the hell!" His footsteps ran out of the room, approaching the front door, as I heard Sally call, "Richard! You not supposed to say that word. Mama won't like it! Come back! Come back and play!"

I heard the front door slam and Hallowell running down the street, his mother calling after him in alarm. A stream of unintelligible sounds met me, single words: "How? Rosalie Hale? Fuck!" His fear caused him to run faster, and he barreled into at least one pedestrian, who exclaimed, "Careful there, son! Slow down!"

"Catch him! Before he talks to anyone!" Edward urged.

I leapt from the tree. Sally called from the window, "Bye-bye angel! Bring back my brother!"

I heard Mrs. Hallowell: "Sally? Who are you talking to?"

Sally answered with the truth of a child, "The pretty angel who was watching Richard through the window."

I felt guilt at the pain I was about to cause them both. I heard Sally's little footsteps running down the hall, her mother calling out to her, running after her, Sally crying, "Let's watch the angel fly, Mama!" Their sounds quickly faded as I overtook her brother. He was cutting down a side street when I caught up to him, leaping over him and landing facing him in the alleyway between two buildings.

"You k-k-killed them," he said.

"They killed me," I said calmly. I was tired of this conversation. "I won't let you hurt the little girl."

"Sally? I wouldn't—I never—I couldn't…"

"But you were thinking of it, just now. You can't be in the same room with her without thinking about it, can you? Can you be in the room with any woman?"

Hallowell was backing up slowly. He knew, I think, that he couldn't outrun me, but his cowardice wouldn't allow him to stand still, to face death like a man.

I grabbed him quickly, twisted his neck once until it snapped, and dropped him. Footsteps were approaching quickly, running.

"Dey were running, Mama! The angels in Sunday school don't run, they fly. She's a silly angel if she don't know that."

There was nowhere to hide. I panicked and froze, and suddenly they were there. Mrs. Hallowell and the little girl. As Mrs. Hallowell began to scream, I heard little Sally say, "Look! Mama! The angel!"

"Richard!" I heard Mrs. Hallowell cry out.

Sally said, "Why you sleeping, Richard?" Her little feet approached her brother's body.

Mrs. Hallowell choked out, "Sally! No!"

I turned to run as Sally began to scream.

I ran and ran and ran, gasping for breath, tearless sobs wracking my body. I had broken a child's heart, a mother's heart. The face of my own mother at my funeral swam before my eyes, the look of pain at a loss no parent should ever have to suffer. I had just caused that. The circle of influence was spreading. I had hurt a child beyond all repair. Forever would she see her brother there, in that street, broken and mangled, eyes staring into nothing.

I collapsed at the edge of the woods. Edward was suddenly there. "Rosalie?"

I couldn't look at him. My chest heaved with pain, self-loathing. I felt it would crush under the weight of the little girl's screams, screams I would hear for the rest of my days.

"Kill me, Edward. Please. I should have died in that street. I should never have lived on."

"No."

"You never wanted me here, in your family. I've made you do things, help me do things. Terrible things." My breath came in ragged gasps.

"You've made me do nothing," Edward said firmly. "I made my own choice to help you, and for many reasons."

"You just wanted to keep everyone safe. You didn't want to help me kill, but you have. And it's my fault."

"You're making no sense, Rosalie."

"I ruined her, Edward. I ruined that child."

"You saved that child from a terrible fate. She just doesn't know it." Edward reached out to stroke my hair, humming quietly a tune I'd heard him play before.

I collapsed into him, and he just held me for a time, humming through my sobs, until my breathing slowed and calmed.

"I think the decision you have made is the right one. The men who attacked you do not belong in society. They will hurt people again and again and again. Our abilities are good for very little except killing. Why not use them for the benefit of mankind?"

"But what about what Carlisle says, that killing is wrong, that you can't predict how it will affect you?"

Edward paused for a while. "Will you ever be happy as a predator? I think we are programmed to kill, and with that comes pain. We have traded our happiness, our humanity, for immortality. We can only work with what remains."

"That is how you see your life?"

"That is how my life is."

"Will there ever be anything else?" Edward's vision of our lives was bleak to the point of absolute hopelessness. I didn't think I could bear it.

"I look at Carlisle and Esme, and sometimes I think that if there were someone…a soulmate…but how? How, when all of my kind, of our kind, are programmed only to kill? The others I have known are as bereft as I. Love and bloodlust are unhappy bedfellows." He looked at my face, clearly reading my thoughts, my hopelessness. "But we have each other, our family. That is far more than most of our kind have. We have unlimited time in which to learn. That is something."

I nodded. That was something. I loved my family as I'd never loved my human family. That would have to be enough for now. But it wouldn't be enough forever.

"Eternity is a long time, Edward. Don't you think that somewhere we could find what Carlisle and Esme have?"

"I don't know, Rosalie. They were hoping that we'd be that for each other, but we can't, can we?"

I shook my head. I was beginning to grow fond of Edward, but I couldn't see that affection growing into anything more.

"Why did you come back, Edward?"

There was silence for a long time. Finally he answered, "I missed my family. My home. I grew tired of the killing. So much blood."

"Isn't that proof that there's more to us than simply our instincts?"

Edward smiled slightly. "Carlisle believes so. I'm not sure."

"Will you forgive me if I choose not to believe you?"

"Of course." Edward nodded stiffly. "It is, of course, your own experience of our existence that will matter to you. Perhaps yours will be different. But I'm sure that this is my life."

My heart, what little was left, would have broken for Edward at that moment if it were not so weighted down with guilt and anguish. I have thought of this moment many times in years since, trying to understand the mystery that is my brother. I can't say that I've ever been successful.

But that moment in the clearing, I felt connected to him, felt that he truly became my brother as he held me, hummed to me, soothed me. I felt a flicker of love for him that I had not felt before. I would consider all he'd said. In fact, I would consider it for years to come.

But my decision about how to proceed would have to be my own. Carlisle couldn't make it; Edward couldn't make it; even Esme couldn't. My shoulders would have to bear the guilt of the pain in that child's eyes. My heart would be the one that refused to heal. And somehow I would have to deal with the fact that I was indeed a vampire, a predator.

And, perhaps, a monster.


End file.
